


Just Let Our Walls Cave In

by kazul9



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bedsharing, But not permanent or career threatening and there will be warnings on the chapter, Dancing, Depression, Don't copy to another site, Dragons, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Imaginary Friends, Injury, M/M, Magic, Naked Vitya Shenanigans, Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, SO MUCH comfort at the end you don't even know, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Talk of Past Bad Parenting, Threats of Feeling Emotions, Touch-Starved Victor Nikiforov, Urban Fantasy, Vicchan Lives, Victor Nikiforov Has Abandonment Issues, all the soulmates, post-Sochi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2020-10-13 13:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 141,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/pseuds/kazul9
Summary: In which everything is almost the same, except there are soulmates, many accidents, and much magic—but in the end, Yuuri and Victor will always find each other.





	1. One

Naked men appearing in Yuuri’s life should not be a recurring theme. In fact, Yuuri should _never_ have to deal with unexpected naked people _ever_, if you want his opinion. Of course he doesn’t mind it in the onsen, it makes sense there.The same is true for locker rooms, there’s no need to think about nakedness—though there _is_ a need to know Chris’s whereabouts, there.

The first time Yuuri encountered a naked stranger, it wasn’t as alarming as it could’ve been. Yuuri was so small when a child appeared, fully naked, and with shimmering silver hair almost to his waist. Yuuri was entranced by this older boy named Vitya, of course, and tried to get him clothes from his parents.

No one else could see the naked boy.

An imaginary friend, people said. No one thought it odd. Before he had Takeshi and Yuuko, Yuuri was a lonely kid that spent way too much time at Minako’s studio. The fact that the imaginary child showed up naked at first was… maybe a little odd. Some people suggested it was how one of his soulmates was presenting, but that didn’t seem right.

Any soul that is connected to another will show up in a different way—his family tended to share tattoos, and Yuuri has two twining dragons on his chest to represent his bond to his parents, and a ring of the mermaids that bask on Hasetsu’s beach around his thumb that also appeared on his sister’s skin when he was born. He even has a small tattoo on him from Vicchan.

Phichit tends to glow a bit for Yuuri, which is fitting considering his personality. Yuuko and Yuuri apparently switched bodies once when they were toddlers—even though neither of them remembers that. Spiritual projection wouldn’t have been so strange for a soulmate manifestation.

But when Yuuri first saw _Victor_ gliding across a TV screen, he knew he must have made his Vitya up. He must have seen Victor Nikiforov in passing and based this imaginary friend off of him.

Sure, the imaginary kid started _thankfully_ showing up with clothes on—though they were pajamas since he claimed that he only came to Yuuri when he slept. He said Yuuri would visit him when he slept, too, though neither could remember when they were awake. But then, if he couldn’t remember, how did Vitya remember to put on clothes when he slept? And it didn’t make sense that Yuuri could understand what his Vitya said when Yuuri could barely speak English, much less _Russian_. It didn’t make sense that no one else could see any signs of him, because, yeah, every soulmate was unique and different, but normally spiritual projection leaves signs.

Not to mention that no one as impressive as Victor Nikiforov could be connected to someone like _Yuuri_. So he ignored his imaginary friend until he stopped showing up—which was proof in itself that it wasn’t anything meaningful—and that was that. A kid’s daydream.

Until now, apparently.

It’s sometime after noon, Yuuri’s just rolled out of bed, and there’s a naked man in Yuuri and Phichit’s living room. And not just any man—Yuuri would know that ass anywhere.

A hysterical laugh almost bubbles out of his mouth, but he bites it back before it escapes. His failure at Sochi, and then just squeaking by finals last week is leading him to a mental break. And now, Yuuri’s chubbier than he’s been in years, surrounded by his and Phichit’s mountain of take-out containers and pizza boxes from last week—and some maybe a little bit older than that—and their ratty, second-hand furniture, with the afternoon sun illuminating… an imaginary, very naked man that looks like his idol.

If he’s going to be hallucinating, it makes no sense for Vitya to be naked. If it was a dream, and this was Victor, that’s a different story. But this is _Vitya_. Vitya only showed up naked twice before he started wearing clothes.

He can’t call this delusion _Victor_. He met Victor Nikiforov briefly, and if anything dashed his distant, impossible hopes that they were somehow soulmates, it was two words:

_Commemorative photo_?

Victor never knew Yuuri’s full name, probably, but aren’t people supposed to at least _recognize_ their soulmates? So this is Vitya, not the man who decided Yuuri wasn’t even enough of a competitor to know his name. That, or maybe the man cruel enough to want to immortalize Yuuri’s awful performances with a mocking photo. Either way, his Vitya wouldn’t have done either. They’re totally different—even if they sort of share a name. He must’ve heard or seen Victor’s coach call him Vitya at some point, and latched onto it. That’s all.

Yuuri squints a little, totally out of confusion and the sleepiness clinging to him, and absolutely _not_ because he’s appreciating the imaginary view in front of him, nope. He should ignore this delusion and go drink some tea. That would be smart.

So, naturally, he doesn’t do that. 

“Why are you naked?” Yuuri blurts, blinking a few times. “_Again_?”

His delusion turns and Yuuri absolutely _refuses_ to look at anything below Vitya’s face.

“_Yuuri!_ It is you!” A huge, heart-shaped smile spreads across Vitya’s face as he steps forward. “After Sochi, I was nearly sure, but—”

“Don’t talk about Sochi. Just.” Yuuri bristles before he reaches up, pushing up his glasses up and rubbing at his eyes. _Breathe_, he needs to breathe through this. Maybe he can meditate a bit and everything will be back to normal. He just woke up, maybe he’s still half-dreaming. “Just don’t. I don’t need even my hallucinations rubbing it in.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Yuuri almost believes that Vitya will be gone once he opens his eyes and looks around. The painful twinge in his chest at the thought is only there because he’s too groggy to think straight.

“I’m not rubbing it in, Yuuri.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath. God, being even in the general vicinity of Victor has made Vitya’s voice too much like the real thing, just _too_ _much_.

“And if you don’t believe that I’m really here, I’ll prove it! I’ll—”

Arms wrap around Yuuri and he jumps, scrambling backward only a couple of feet before he trips over some piece of garbage and lands hard on his butt and… Oh no, that puts him on eye-level with Vitya’s—

Yuuri slaps his hands over his face, not even bothering to move his glasses this time. Maybe if he’s lucky they’ll be so smudged that he can’t see anything.“I don’t care if you’re real or not, I really, really don’t! You can just, um… go, okay?”

There’s a second of quiet. “I can’t just leave while I’m naked, Yuuri.”

That does make some sort of weird sense… Except Vitya’s literally a hallucination so it doesn’t matter who will see him. But maybe if he clothes Vitya, he’ll go away. Bargaining with a delusion doesn’t seem like the best plan of action, but maybe this is some weird form of grief over the death of his figure skating career and everything going on with Vicchan?

“Fine.” Yuuri draws in a steadying breath, getting to his feet and almost falling right back over if it weren’t for the light touch on his arm. He _refuses_ to move his hands. “I’ll get you clothes, and then you’re leaving, okay?”

There’s another moment before, “Well, clothes do seem like a good first step.”

As a master of avoiding subjects that he’d rather not ever talk about, Yuuri recognizes deflection when he hears it. This whole thing it would be much, _much_ easier if Yuuri had a few more minutes to wake up and process this absolute mess, and also if he wasn’t speaking to a naked mental breakdown wearing Victor Nikiforov’s face. At least he can get rid of the naked bit before getting rid of the rest.

Yuuri parts his fingers the tiniest amount to start picking his way around the living room and toward his bedroom, pushing the door open and cringing at the mess created by stress, apathy, and binge eating of the past… who knows how long. Well, maybe he’ll have clothes that’ll fit Vitya, even if the hems will be a little too short. Thank god he’s not some Victorian man with an ankle fetish, or—

“Oh my.” Vitya’s voice has an obvious smile to it, and Yuuri’s stomach fills with dread. “I didn’t know you were such a fan, _Yuuri_.”

Yuuri’s cheeks burn against his palms. He may have… a _lot_ of posters of Victor on the walls, but they were what kept him sane in this strange, loud country, and what kept him focused on his dreams. Though now…

Now it doesn’t matter. Vitya isn’t real. Yuuri doesn’t have to pretend this horribly awkward and uncomfortable situation is actually going on.

He digs through his dresser and tosses Vitya the nicest workout clothes he has in a size that might kinda fit him, and knows that his delusion catches them when he doesn’t hear them smack against the floor.

Now that is one thing that was always odd; Vitya can sometimes touch things. Maybe Yuuri has some innate natural magic talent? And all he can do is levitate objects. Maybe he missed his calling and should’ve trained as a witch. After all, Minako teaches some magic on the side… But he always loved dance so much. And maybe he can levitate _objects_, but _he_ can only fall on the ice.

He clenches his fists as he glares up at the posters. Maybe they’re why he’s hallucinating Vitya. And it’s not like he needs the reminder, and he’s packing anyway…

The posters have to go.

Yuuri walks over and begins pulling everything off the wall, being sure not to rip or tear the paper. These posters are nothing compared to his collection in Hasetsu, of course, but he’s continued to accumulate them throughout the years that he’s been away. He can pinpoint when he got each one, which season, which program. How his hopes to be an equal on the ice with his idol were dashed every single time.

“Yuuri, no!” Vitya’s voice nearly squeaks behind him. “Don’t be embarrassed!”

“I’m not—” Yuuri freezes, half-turned, before the tension bleeds out. Thankfully Vitya actually put the clothes on. “It’s not… It’s just time they come down.”

There’s a furrow on Vitya’s forehead and a frown on his face, and they look so _wrong_ there. “But why?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, half-prepared to let the truth fall out, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Not when he’d be letting down those bright blue eyes, real or not. “I’m going back to Japan soon. They need to come down, anyway.”

The frown doesn’t leave Vitya’s face, but before Yuuri can do a thing about it, the sight in front of him finally sinks in, a heavy, sickening lump forming in his stomach. A Victor look-alike is standing feet from Yuuri, in Yuuri’s bedroom, and in Yuuri’s clothes.

This is… This is _way_ too much.

“I need a cup of tea,” Yuuri mutters, pushing past Vitya. “And some breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Vitya squints at the window that the blinds half blot out, like he doesn’t quite know what time it is.

Good, if he doesn’t know what time it is, he can’t judge Yuuri more than he already has.

Yuuri hums a vague agreement that yes, he needs food in his mouth, and walks into the kitchen. He eyes the mountain of dishes in the sink before grabbing the kettle, filling it with water and setting it on the stove. Phichit is a heathen that warms water in the microwave when he wants tea, but Yuuri refuses to give into that blasphemy.

He grabs a bowl and barely sets it down before arms curl around his shoulders.

“You’re not a morning person, are you?” Vitya coos into Yuuri’s ear as he settles his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder.

He should _not_ be blushing this much over something that isn’t even real, but… but Vitya feels warm, and weirdly familiar and nice? Not as nice as food and reality, though.

He pushes away from Vitya’s grip, putting a solid foot between them—which is all that Yuuri’s going to get in this tiny kitchen. “Go sit down. Do you want something? I have—”

Yuuri snaps his mouth shut. Vitya can’t _eat_.

“It’s been so long that my Yuuri forgot how this works.” Vitya reaches out and runs the tips of his fingers along Yuuri’s cheek and Yuuri absolutely _does not_ shiver at this. “I’m not hungry like this, thank you.”

He’s not hungry _ever_ because he’s in Yuuri’s _mind_. And Yuuri’s not going to let himself get pushed around by his own creation. “Then go sit down, I’m busy.”

There’s a soft chuckle before there are receding footsteps, and the scrape of a chair being pulled out.

Before he can think too much about _anything_, Yuuri grabs the sugariest cereal he can find in their cupboard and throws his breakfast together. Vitya will more likely than not judge him for this, but—

No.

Yuuri slams the jug of milk down on the counter, possibly sloshing a little of it everywhere. This is _enough_. He’s got enough things to worry about without having to take into account a person that doesn’t exist. Maybe it won’t be so simple to get rid of Vitya, but he’s not going to give in. He’s not going to be afraid. He’s got enough to run away from, he doesn’t need to add himself to that list.

Yuuri throws his meal together, then shuffles and plops down in the chair opposite Vitya.

Even if it’s not reality, it’s a strange sight; imaginary Victor Nikiforov, in Yuuri’s clothes, sitting at the most rickety table still standing, each of its four chairs a different height and style and color. He snorts a little before shoving the first spoonful of sugar heaven into his mouth.

Vitya’s nose wrinkles. “That garbage actually tastes good?”

Yuuri narrows his eyes. He knew Vitya was going to judge—but, well. He’d be judging himself if he could be bothered to give a damn. “Have you ever tried it?”

Vitya hesitates, but shakes his head. “I don’t break my diet.”

Yuuri snorts. Well, he wouldn’t put it past Victor Nikiforov, but luckily he’s not actually here to witness Yuuri pigging out. “Then don’t judge me.”

“Yuuri, I know that you aren’t competing right now, but…” Vitya folds his hands in front of himself, leaning forward. “With that cute little chub weighing you, I doubt you can even do ice shows.”

Yuuri winces. Vitya says it so brightly, like he didn’t just absolutely gut Yuuri. It isn’t like Yuuri doesn’t know that. He doesn’t need it rubbed in.

“I’m not doing ice shows.”

Vitya stills, his smile freezing on his face. “What? But _Yuuri_! You’re Japan’s Ace, of course you’re doing ice shows.”

Yuuri frowns, shoves another mouthful in his face, and refuses to move his gaze from his cereal. All that sort of stuff used to go through Celestino, but he hasn’t gotten invited to anything. He doubts he ever got into any that his coach didn’t have to beg to get him into in the first place. “I’m not Japan’s Ace.”

“But they call you—”

“They _called_ me that, yeah.” Yuuri glances up at Vitya, at that pitying frown. “But not anymore. I’ve let Coach Celestino go. I’m not going back.”

Vitya gapes. It’s weird on a face that’s always looked so composed while it stares down at Yuuri from his many posters. More proof he’s fake.

It’s a moment before Vitya swallows. “What?”

Yuuri shrugs. “I meant what I said. I’m going… home.” Though it’s been _five years_. So long since he’s stepped foot in Minako’s studio; since he’s woken up to the mermaid song echoing in through his window in time with the waves crashing along the shore; since he’s had the comfort of his family and his mother’s cooking; since he held Vicchan and skated at Ice Castle. Though that last one’s impossible, now.

“Why?” Vitya breathes, eyes wide. Another scrap of evidence for Yuuri’s pile—Victor Nikiforov wouldn’t care about him retiring.

_You_, Yuuri doesn’t say, but he thinks it. It’s not fair, and it’s not even true. The fault doesn’t fall on Victor that Yuuri let everyone down at the moment he should’ve proven that he was worth all of their time and sacrifice—that he could’ve been a worthy soulmate for Victor, even. But that was only ever some weird, creepy pipe dream that at least half of Victor’s fans daydream about.

Sometimes Yuuri will sit and wonder which one of those fans might be one of Victor’s actual soulmates—though that path leads to madness.

Well, more madness than he’s already dealing with.

“You’re not real, but I’m sure you know about Sochi through my brain.” Yuuri grimaces, pushing the rest of his cereal away. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“How do you know I’m not the real Victor Nikiforov?” Vitya leans forward, eyes searching Yuuri’s face. “Soulmates work in mysterious ways, you know.”

Yuuri meets Vitya’s gaze, weighing his words. Of course _that’s_ what Vitya latches onto. Being soulmates means a deep connection between people, no matter the type of relationship. Victor would’ve known, Yuuri would’ve known. Something should’ve happened when they saw each other, but it didn’t. Still, though, that’s not Yuuri’s greatest reasoning at this point. And what’s the use in keeping the truth from himself? “I know you’re not real because there is no universe in which Victor Nikiforov could love me.”

Vitya sucks in a breath. “He could love you.”

Yuuri shrugs. “Sure. And I could grow a second head.”

“Fine!” Vitya stands up, looking down at Yuuri. “Then I’ll just have to take every opportunity to prove I’m real, and that I’m your soulmate, and that you’re a beautiful skater.”

Yuuri glares up at him. Fine, he wants to prove he’s real? That all that nonsense is true? Well, Yuuri’s going spend just as much time proving the opposite. “Have fun with _that_. But you haven’t been awkward at all about showing up in my apartment. You haven’t questioned anything. You say my skating’s ‘beautiful’ when the real Victor didn’t even know my name at Sochi. And you’re way more enthusiastic and way less suave than the Victor that I’ve seen on TV.”

“That’s… a lot to unpack.” Vitya frowns. “But first, _that_ Victor isn’t—”

The door slams, making both Vitya and Yuuri jump.

“Yuuri, I’m—!”

Phichit turns the corner out of their small entrance hall and…

And the clothes Vitya’s wearing immediately flutter through him and to the floor.

Well… that’s the same as when Yuuri was younger. Vitya can hold things until someone other than Yuuri sees him, and then he goes slightly transparent. It was really unhelpful when Yuuri was trying get help with his chores, and it made everyone think Yuuri was a klutz for a while, but everyone assumed he’d grown out of it.

But now Vitya’s naked again, and Phichit’s back from the rink, and Yuuri has no excuse.

Yuuri glances between Vitya and Phichit, but Phichit’s eyes don’t even pause on the very naked imaginary man at the table—another sample of evidence for Yuuri’s case—and instead glue themselves to the clothes that shouldn’t be there.

With a deep breath, Yuuri places his face in his hands.

This is going to be awkward, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU BET IT IS, YUURI.
> 
> Hello, my name is Bacon and I’m a heathen that microwaves water for tea, fite me.
> 
> *ehem* Welcome to my next fanfic! It's... a little strange, but I hope you'll bear with me. I'm excited about a few things I have planned down the road for this one! :D I _am_ still drafting this fic, but I'm fourteen chapters in, so don't worry too much about me falling behind posting schedule. This was written with a bunch of prompts from Twitter all packed into one fic because I hit a follower milestone, just like [In the Hope of Open Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979343/chapters/39908637) was.
> 
> I _definitely_ didn't plan on this one getting so long. :'D But that's my own fault! I've always heavily related to beginning-of-the-series Yuuri; not too long after YoI aired I went through a period where I had to drop the last hope of my dream of getting traditionally published, my cat I raised since she was still nursing and I was twelve passed away very suddenly (and it was _very hard_ not to blame myself), I'd managed to injure myself so badly I couldn't walk much or for long, and I'd run out of treatment options. It was a little depressing, and it was super inspiring how Yuuri had everything crumble around him mentally and physically, and how he came back to kick ass and become a better person. I'd watched the show as it was airing, but that Rough Period is around the time in my life when the YoI fandom dragged me in. Anyhow, I've always wanted an opportunity to get my grimy fingers into Yuuri's post-Sochi head, so... here we are! :D Hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> Thank you to [Crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for doing a lovely job of betaing (and screaming at me lots <3), and to [Kathe](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts) and [Alice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterpile/profile) for alphaing!!! <3 Also thank _you_, dear reader, for giving this weird story a chance. <3 If you enjoyed and you have a moment, comments would be super appreciated!!! I am a wee bean with little self esteem that could use a hug and reassurance.
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//)


	2. Two

Phichit spends a moment staring between the clothes that just fell on the empty chair across the table, and Yuuri.

Yuuri, on the other hand, keeps glancing at Vitya, remembering he’s now absolutely naked _again _beneath the table, and then looking back at Phichit with probably the reddest face to ever grace a human being.

“Um, Yuuri?” Phichit finally starts, words slow.

Yuuri preemptively winces. Phichit obviously can’t see Vitya or there would be a _lot_ of screaming—and pictures, unfortunately—but instead he’s got that furrow in his brow that says _concern_, and Yuuri’s not ready for Phichit ask about the clothes flopping onto a chair as he walked in, or maybe he overheard Yuuri talking to himself, or—

“Are you eating _cereal_?” Phichit frowns.

“Uh.” Yuuri looks down at his bowl, then up at Phichit, and back down again. “Yes?”

Phichit places a hand on his hip. “You _do_ know it’s dinnertime, right?”

Yuuri blinks at Phichit. He did stay up pretty late playing on his phone, but it wasn’t like he would’ve been sleeping anyway. He’s had trouble with it since Sochi, between finals, and anxiety, and finals anxiety. But he doesn’t have school anymore, he doesn’t have skating, he doesn’t have any plans.

He has nothing.

So Yuuri shrugs and shoves another spoonful of sweet, slightly soggy goodness into his mouth.

“_Yuuri_,” both Phichit and Vitya say his name in varying degrees of disapproval, and Yuuri wonders if there’s a hole that he can jump into so that he can eat his cereal in peace.

“I’ll try to sleep better tonight,” Yuuri promises, knowing that even if he _does_ try to sleep well, it’ll be light and restless and full of weird dreams like always. 

Phichit frowns at him, knowing exactly what Yuuri means. The downside of having a roommate that actually cares about him is that he calls Yuuri out on his bullshit way too much. 

Yuuri doesn’t even dare to look at Vitya. First, because he’s totally naked and has less shame than anyone Yuuri’s ever known; even growing up in a hot springs resort with so many naked people around, he’s never seen anything like this—and he means both shameless nudity _and_ that body. Second, because he has a feeling Vitya will see through him, too. After all, he grew up with Yuuri, and he _is_ just a hallucination.

Finally, Phichit’s face relaxes and a queasy icicle of dread forms in Yuuri’s stomach. “Good! Then to tire you out, we’re going shopping!”

Yuuri groans. “Phichit, you know I don’t have any money.” Not after losing so thoroughly at Sochi; he doesn’t even have enough for Vicchan.

“No, not _that_ kind of shopping. Groceries!” Phichit rolls his eyes, like Yuuri should’ve known exactly what he meant. “We literally only have cereal, and I want to eat something that Ciao Ciao won’t yell at me for tomorrow—we don’t have the excuse of finals anymore.”

Yuuri sighs. “But you just got back from practice. Aren’t you tired?”

“You wish!” Phichit grabs one of Yuuri’s arms, trying to tug him away from the dregs of his breakfast—or dinner, whatever. “C’mon, we gotta run to make the bus.”

Yuuri knows when he’s fighting a losing battle, so after taking a moment to gather his wits, he sighs again. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”

Phichit draws back as if burned. “You’re wearing _that_ out?”

Yuuri glances down at himself and feels like he’s had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Victor’s seen him all this time in his ratty sweatpants and old, stained t-shirt that he slept in. He knows what a pig Yuuri is. He’s—

He’s _Vitya_. He’s not real. It’s fine, everything’s _fine_.

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath. “I haven’t changed yet, Phichit, my fashion choices aren’t _that_ bad.”

Phichit gives him that terrible side-eye only he has mastered. “You tried to leave the house in crocs and a Hawaiian shirt, once.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. “That wasn’t _that bad_.”

“Just because you have an ass that slays for days doesn’t mean that you can wear whatever you want!” Phichit scoffs.

“I—what? Phichit!” Yuuri jumps to his feet, face already beet red again.

“He’s right. Crocs are atrocious, Yuuri.” Vitya taps his lip, eyes scouring over Yuuri’s outfit.

Oh god, Yuuri would like to _die_.

“I’m changing!” Yuuri announces before scrambling toward his room. He turns to slam the door and finds Vitya standing right there instead, head tilted in a wordless question.

Yuuri almost opens his mouth to respond, but then realizes he can see Phichit staring at him through Vitya’s semi-transparent form, and steps aside to let Vitya in before quickly slamming the door shut. Without glancing at Vitya’s face, Yuuri walks to his bed, collapses, and lets out a small scream into the safety of his pillow.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath. What’s with Vitya’s obsession with saying Yuuri’s name? Is it some form of narcissism on Yuuri’s part, if Vitya’s just a part of his brain? 

“Go away,” Yuuri says instead of one of his hundreds of questions, though he doesn’t say it with any force. How can he have gotten up less than an hour ago and be so tired already?

Vitya’s quiet for a moment before there’s the slight jostle of someone sitting on the bed beside Yuuri. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath, turning his head a little so he can be heard instead of speaking into the pillow. “I mean, I do have to change clothes, so…” And he would like some time to scream more, thank you very much.

There’s another moment of silence before Vitya clears his throat. “That’s not what I meant. Though, now that you mention it, you’ve seen me naked more than enough. The least you can do is return the favor.”

Yuuri promptly grabs his spare pillow and chucks it behind him. Something wicked and satisfied grows inside him at Vitya’s, “Oof!”

“What did you mean, then?” Yuuri keeps his voice low enough that Phichit hopefully won’t hear beyond the paper-thin walls, but moving the conversation forward before Vitya can retaliate.

“What I meant was if… if you really don’t want me here, I’ll leave.”

Yuuri grips his pillow a little tighter, swallowing down the bitter disappointment on his tongue. “You really aren’t Victor Nikiforov if you give up that easy, then.”

That sort of thing would be more like Yuuri.

Vitya scoffs softly. “I won’t give up, but I’ll find another way to prove myself to you. I’m just letting you choose which method you prefer.”

Yuuri nearly opens his mouth to ask what the not haunting him in his ugly apartment option entails exactly, but he doesn’t dare to. Because if he asks, and Vitya gives him an answer, he’s going to latch onto whatever dumb idea he spews and hope for it to happen. Despite the fact that he knows it won’t ever come to exist.

He doesn’t _need_ another disappointment, even if he almost wishes this was real.

He wanted to be worthy of Victor on the ice, yeah, but also as a person. He still does. And if Yuuri could have Victor anyway, without having to earn him and prove he has some sort of value, that… that would be…

Way too good to be true. And embarrassing on top of that. Victor doesn’t need the likes of Katsuki Finished-Last-At-The-Grand-Prix-Final Yuuri as a soulmate. And Yuuri doesn’t think he could stand being kept a secret for being so embarrassing, despite the fact that he knows he’s more than earned it.

And now he’s just… he’s _lonely_, and he wants any fragment of what he had, even if he doesn’t deserve it; even if it’s probably not at all healthy.

Yuuri turns his face back into the pillow, now more to hide the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes than to scream into it. He takes a shaking breath, but only manages one word, “Stay.”

A hand falls onto the small of Yuuri’s back, and it almost feels real. Yuuri can nearly pretend that the weight there belongs to _the_ Victor Nikiforov, but… there’s no warmth. There’s no real hand there, it’s not him, it’s just Yuuri having a mental break after the panic of school and skating’s finally settled.

Yuuri’s feet itch to run, to grab his skates or ballet shoes, to _move_.

But the rink’s closed, he doesn’t have access to a dance studio since he dropped skating—regardless of Celestino’s too-kind offers—and Phichit expects him to go shopping.

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya nearly purrs his name, a shiver rolling up Yuuri’s spine. “Does this mean you know I’m real?”

“You’re not real,” Yuuri mumbles into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t be real. But it doesn’t matter because I’m going to Japan soon, and I’m leaving skating here, and you’ll go away.”

Vitya’s hand presses a little more firmly on his back. “You really want to leave skating?”

Does he? Does he want to leave the ice behind? Leave his dreams of competing with Victor behind? Abandon everything he’s ever worked for?

“No,” Yuuri murmurs into the pillow. “But I… I can’t right now. I’m going to Hasetsu. I don’t have a coach anymore.”

“Good!” Vitya chirps. “Celestino was terrible for you.”

Yuuri freezes, before swiveling around to see Vitya smiling down at him as he perches at the edge of his bed.

God, he’s never going to get used to seeing him—even if it’s just Vitya—here.

“Celestino is a great coach.” Yuuri jabs a finger at Vitya’s chest to hopefully draw attention away from his pinkened cheeks.

“Oh yes. I like what he’s doing with your friend, Phichit.” Vitya reaches out and takes Yuuri’s hand, interlacing their fingers like it’s as natural as breathing. “But he didn’t push you like he should have. Your anxiety is a part of you and something to consider when skating, yes. I knew you too well as a child to forget that. But it doesn’t _define_ you. You have so much potential.”

Yuuri snorts. “Sure.”

Vitya frowns at him. “I’ll have you know that I’ve watched all of your programs, and—”

“You _what_?” Yuuri almost yanks his hand away on pure instinct, but Vitya holds on tight.

“If I only exist in your head, is it really that surprising?” Vitya winks at him.

Yuuri splutters. Vitya’s right. It shouldn’t be surprising if Yuuri believes that Vitya’s fake, but… he just…

“Besides, how could I resist? Your musicality is breathtaking. I’d just wanted to see some of the highlights of your career, but once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

The heat in Yuuri’s cheeks spreads, reaching up to his ears and down toward this neck. “Does that mean… um…”

“Yes.” Vitya’s grin grows wicked. “Even your exhibitions. I didn’t know anyone could move like that, Yuuri, and that costume—”

“Nope.” Yuuri sits up straight, pulling his hand away. “No, no, no, nope!”

Vitya slides a little closer, enough so that if he was real, Yuuri would feel his heat. “Yes, Yuuri. You’re beautiful. Enrapturing, really. I can’t believe it took me until Sochi to—”

“_No!_” Yuuri grabs a pillow and shoves it into Vitya’s face. “If _anything_ is proving that you’re imaginary, it’s _this_.”

A slight rapping sounds on Yuuri’s door, making them both jump before it creaks open.

“Uh, you okay in there, Yuuri?” Phichit peeks his head in, brow furrowed and obviously already knowing that _no_, not everything’s all right.

“Um yes!” Yuuri glances around, very carefully not making eye contact with an extremely naked Vitya before grabbing his phone and waving it around. “A game!”

Phichit narrows his eyes.

Yuuri swallows. “I was playing a game and I was super into it? So I was just… being loud. Yeah. I’ll get ready to go now.”

Phichit’s mouth turns down. “Sure. So long as you’re okay…”

“Yep, I’m fine!” Yuuri waves his hands in front of him, like he can physically shoo away Phichit’s concerns. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Phichit stares at Yuuri a bit longer, making sure that Yuuri _knows_ Phichit doesn’t believe a word—and it’s not like he can blame Phichit, especially if he could hear part of what Yuuri was saying through the paper-thin walls. And it’s not like he can tell Phichit what’s _really_ going on…

Well, actually, he probably could do just that. They’re best friends. If Yuuri was going to tell anybody, it would be Phichit. But… Phichit’s busy preparing for Worlds. He’s got a new semester starting up soon, and he’s three years younger than Yuuri, it’s not like he’s going to be magically more mature and have all the answers that Yuuri lacks.

No, there’s no need to worry him.

Finally, Phichit lets out a sigh. “Yeah, all right. Stop playing on your phone and get out here. _Some_ of us didn’t just laze around all day and are actually hungry for a real meal.”

And with that, he shuts the door.

Yuuri lets out a long breath before jabbing a finger at Vitya again. “_You,_” he whispers as aggressively as he can. “Quiet.”

But Yuuri knows that his command’s already in one ear and out the other by the way that Vitya taps his lip and how his eyes search Yuuri’s face. “You’re not really fine, are you, Yuuri?”

“Does it matter?” Yuuri huffs, getting up from his bed and rummaging through his dresser. “Now turn around, I’ve got to put clothes on.”

Vitya raises an eyebrow, but does as he’s told, standing up and facing a wall of Yuuri’s room, staring at the fading wallpaper like he’s trying to make sense of the nonsensical pattern. “It matters to me.”

“_Why_?” Yuuri snaps as he tosses clothes on the bed, then begins stripping off his shirt.

“Well, you can look at it one of two ways. If I’m not real—and I assure you, I am, you won’t find anyone with more knowledge about Coach Yakov’s bald spot and Makkachin’s life history in this world—then I’m concerned for you and therefore myself, by your reasoning.” Vitya’s words are so light, almost… nonchalant. “But as a real person, I care because of _course_ I would care for my soulmate no matter the relationship destiny has in store for us, and naturally I’m concerned about any person who’s reached the point where having visual and auditory hallucinations is so… unsurprising.”

Yuuri scowls as he puts on clothes. “Fine. I’m _not_ all right. I blew my one chance to… I blew my first Grand Prix. Vicchan, my best friend, the ice dragon that maintains the rink at my hometown, is sick and can barely create ice anymore and I can’t afford treatment.I was supposed to win and use that money to pay for the medicine he needs, but I lost. I don’t have enough. And the disease he has, even if I can cure it, it might lead to other problems and I don’t have the money for that, either. So now we’re going to have to try and give Vicchan to someone who _can_ take care of him, and on top of losing him, I won’t have an ice rink to skate at anymore unless they revamp the place and get a Zamboni—but again, _money_. I messed up with Vicchan, I messed up at skating, and my idol didn’t even _recognize_ me when I had the smallest chance of meeting him. I left home and wasted all this time and money on a career that’s blown up in my face, and a degree that I’ll probably do nothing with, so I’m going to stop chasing after something I’ll _never_ catch and go home and help out the family business for the rest of my life.”

Yuuri closes his eyes, reminding himself to breathe. “No. I’m not all right.”

Vitya’s quiet for a long moment, to the point where the silence becomes deafening before he speaks. “But I thought you said you didn’t want to quit skating?”

“I don’t _want_ to, but what choice do I have? I just… I’ll have to figure it out.”

“And if you don’t?”

Yuuri winces. “Then I don’t.” He takes another shaking breath before opening his eyes. “I’m dressed.”

Vitya turns around and—oh. That’s a face that Yuuri’s only ever seen on him in competitions, his brow furrowed, eyes alight in concentration. Vitya takes a step toward Yuuri, getting very close in this very small, crowded room. “I can help you.”

“No,” the word snaps out of Yuuri’s mouth before he can even think about it, his pride flaring up hot and overwhelming.

“Please just think about it, Yuuri.” Vitya takes one of Yuuri’s hands again and… and something in Yuuri settles at the touch. “I can afford it.”

“You shouldn’t… It’s my responsibility, and I failed, and what if Vicchan gets gets more and more sick? What if you’re not around to help then, and—and you’re not _real_.” Yuuri shakes his head, almost drawing back but finding he doesn’t _want_ to.

“Then let me prove I’m real.” Vitya’s grip tightens. “Give me your phone number, or give me your address, and I will send you what you need, I’ll talk to you. I’ll send you pictures of Makk—my ice rink, and my rink mates. I can prove it.”

Yuuri shakes his head, no hesitation in his mind. He can’t… he can’t do this. He can’t handle finding out Vitya is fake—or worse, the minuscule chance that this is really the truth, and Victor Nikiforov has seen and known him like this. A failure, a slob, a recluse and… No. Everything that’s messed up is _Yuuri’s_ fault, and he has to fix it.

“No, thank you,” Yuuri finally manages to whisper before pulling his hand from Vitya’s grip and turning to grab his coat.

“But, Yuuri, I have the money—”

“No.” Yuuri meets Vitya’s eyes for a brief moment, before pushing past him. “Thank you, but no. I… I can’t.”

And he opens the door, ending his side of the conversation with Vitya.

Phichit pops his head up over the edge of the couch, where he must’ve been lounging. “Ready?”

Yuuri almost laughs. Ready for what? To accept the fact that he’s dealing with the most intense hallucination he’s ever heard of? Ready to completely dismiss the tiny little part of him that both wishes and dreads that this is real? To face the music and the end of his life and career here in the States?

But that’s not the question, and Yuuri knows that. So he just nods, giving Phichit a small smile that he hopes look genuine. “Yeah,” he lies.

He can’t… he can’t think about any of that. 

But in the meantime, why can’t he indulge himself with this dumb, ridiculous hallucination, and an even more ridiculous shopping trip with Phichit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> YOU KNOW WHAT’S COMING
> 
> PREPARE YOURSELVES
> 
> Also!!! As you can see linked below, there's now a reader rec playlist! Feel free to recommend any songs you think fits this fic in the comments, or you can go anonymous on Curious Cat (no account needed!). :D Any and all genres and recs are welcome--I devour music so I love collecting songs like this.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to [Crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for betaing, and [Kathe](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts) and [Alice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterpile/profile) for alphaing! And thank YOU guys so, so much for giving this fic a chance! I know it's a little strange, but I'm putting a lot of love and care into this lorge boi, so I hope you enjoy the ride. <3
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//)


	3. Three

There are a lot of things that Yuuri expected and hoped for out of his life. So many dreams and aspirations have passed through his brain that he couldn’t tell you half of them, if you asked.

But he can definitely say seeing the likes of Victor Nikiforov standing naked in the middle of a Walmart was _not_ one of them.

“Yuuri, what are you staring at?” Phichit waves a hand in front of Yuuri’s face, breaking him out of his shocked stupor.

“Uh.” Yuuri blinks rapidly, trying to ignore Vitya’s smiling and very naked form, and glances down the nearest aisle, heading toward it before he sees what it holds. “I was just looking at…”

He lets out a sigh. Of course it’s an isle of toys that he wandered down—dolls, specifically. Yuuri might take a bit of pride in his video game obsession, but he’s a _little_ old for toys.

“Yuuri, look!” Vitya gasps, pointing frantically at the shelf. “This car looks exactly like mine!”

Yuuri glances at the bright, bubblegum pink convertible, and decides he’s just going to… go. He’s going to walk out of the store and swim back to Japan where there aren’t any Walmarts or naked Vityas or obnoxious pink convertibles. Hopefully. Oh no, what if this hallucination follows him to Japan?

“Wait,” Yuuri whispers, looking closer. “You actually own that?” Yuuri saw the photoshoot with the car, of course he did. He has a number of posters of it—it’s not like he was gonna pass up on that many shirtless Victors, and the looks he gave to the camera? There was no way Yuuri could resist, despite the horrific screaming of his bank account.

“Of course I do!” Vitya beams. “Makkachin loves it. I’ll take you for a ride in it if you give me your phone number and let me buy you a plane ticket over to Russia.”

Yuuri can only gape. Yeah, sure, just fly him out to Russia for a ride in a convertible in the frigid cold and snow. It’s getting close to spring, sure, but if there’s still snow in Detroit, he doesn’t want to think about what it’s like in practically the Arctic.

And not to mention, Vitya’s very much so _not real_.

“Oh, figure skater dolls!” Phichit yanks one from the shelf in front of Yuuri, thankfully not commenting on how Yuuri’s seemingly muttering to himself. “I didn’t know they made figure skating themed dolls. It’s… wow, that’s not accurate, but it’s cool! Maybe I should get one for my sisters…”

“If you get one, they’d murder each other over who gets to play with it. And you can’t get _four_.” Yuuri glances down at the price and winces. “Besides, aren’t we here for food?”

Phichit huffs. “Well, I’m not the one staring into space looking at figure skating dolls. You know… If you wanna go back to the ice so badly that you can’t help staring longingly at these things, you can come to practice with me. Even if it’s just working on that routine again and again and again, like you did before finals. Celestino won’t mind, since you keep all the younger skaters in line with your creepy levels of concentration.”

Yuuri winces. Thankfully Phichit didn’t mention the _name_ of the routine that Yuuri’s been obsessively practicing and perfecting. Everyone probably thought he was ridiculous, that Yuuri flopped at the Grand Prix Final, then crashed and burned at Nationals, and all he could skate afterward—and during, if he’s being honest—was another skater’s routine.

Even if Victor had shunned Yuuri as a fellow competitor, as anything but a fan, it’s a weird sort of comfort to know this routine. Sharing the same ice as Victor is his dream—or _was_, whatever, he doesn’t know. And skating Victor’s free skate, it just… It makes Yuuri feel connected with the ice and his lofty dreams in a deep, settling sort of way. He doesn’t _have_ to master it—though nothing will stop him from trying, he can’t resist that challenge—because it’s not something he could ever compete with. It’s not his, and the real Victor Nikiforov would probably be horrified to see him skate it. But it’s a connection to the ice that somehow, impossibly doesn’t hurt.

And… honestly, maybe Yuuri should take Phichit up on that offer. He’s gotten to the point where he’s _hallucinating_, and it’s just exhausting to be so miserable all of the time. If today’s shown him anything, it’s that it’s time for a change. He was starting to claw his way out of this emotional pit after Nationals, but then his very last finals…

“Oh, was that your longing stare, Yuuri?” Vitya purrs into Yuuri’s ear, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Heat floods Yuuri’s face, and he stands up straighter and turns toward Phichit. “U-uh, maybe I’ll take you up on your offer, if I sleep all right tonight?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Phichit smiles, relief obvious in every line of his face.

Guilt creeps beneath Yuuri’s skin, and he only just resists curling in on himself. He knows he’s been worrying everyone,it’s just… he’s just… He clears his throat. “Well are we actually going to get food, or just starve?”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Phichit walks up and wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, dragging him along despite being a few inches shorter. “Always thinking with your stomach.”

“Well _someone_ took me away from breakfast before I was finished,” Yuuri mutters, letting Phichit guide him around while absolutely not paying attention to how Vitya prances about, examining all the odds and ends he can find.

Yuuri’s always thought of Walmarts as dirty, loud, and full of people who would be terrifying to meet in any other setting, but apparently Vitya’s finding something that Yuuri’s never seen in the supermarket.

Well, Victor’s always been inspired by weird things. If Vitya _is_ Victor, somehow, then maybe next year the world will see a Walmart-inspired short program by the man.

Yuuri snorts.

“What?” Phichit bobs his head, trying to follow Yuuri’s gaze.

“Oh, uh…” Yuuri points before his mind catches up to him—but at least it’s better than the dolls this time. “Look, they have maple bacon pop tarts.”

For a long second, both Vitya and Phichit are quiet—a small miracle that makes Yuuri’s hair stand on end.

Then Phichit sighs. “Yuuri, we need to have a junk food intervention.”

“W-what?” Yuuri waves his hands in front of him. “No, no, no, I don’t want it, I was just looking at it!”

Phichit stares blankly at him. “Yuuri, you’re the one who tried the bacon cotton candy.”

Yuuri scowls. “Yeah, but you’re the one who bought it.”

“Morbid curiosity and something only costing a dollar is a dangerous combination.” Phichit shakes a finger at Yuuri. “I didn’t force you to get up in the middle of the night and shove half the container in your face. I still can’t believe you were able to stomach that much.”

Yuuri wrinkles his nose. “_I_ can’t believe I stomached that much.”

“Yuuri.” Vitya’s tone drips with disapproval, a frown on his face.

“Look, okay, it was finals and I hadn’t slept in two days and—can we just get some real food? Please?”

Phichit shakes his head and keeps walking, heading toward the refrigerated section, poking around at everything and anything.

Yuuri turns to Vitya—to find that they lost him.

With a sigh, Yuuri backtracks a little, catching Vitya peering into a case. “Vitya,” Yuuri whispers as loud as he dares. “What are you doing? C’mon.”

“But Yuuri!” Vitya’s voice is loud enough to make Yuuri wince. “Look at these sausages! There are so many! How do you even choose what kinds to get? There have to be at least _twenty_ kinds of hot dogs, here.”

“Vitya.” Yuuri lets out a huff. “There is already enough sausage on display with you around, let’s go!”

“My, Yuuri!” Vitya covers his mouth with a hand, probably aiming for a shocked look, but his grin is too obvious. “How forward of you.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and turns away with his cheeks burning. It’s like he’s dealing with a toddler, not a full-grown adult. But if Vitya isn’t real, does that mean _Yuuri_ is like a toddler?

“Um, Yuuri?” Phichit’s close—too close, and Yuuri almost runs into him. He must’ve overheard Yuuri muttering _everything_. “Who are you talking to?”

“Uh, no one! I just found… these.” He points at a nearby freezer case. “And I was…” Oh _god_, what _did_ he find?

Phichit’s eyes widen. “We have to try them.”

Yuuri splutters. “Weren’t you just judging me for my bad choices?”

“Yeah, but Yuuri. It’s bacon cheeseburger on a doughnut bun! Not to mention you don’t have much longer in America with its ridiculous food. We _gotta_.”

“Wow,” Vitya breathes, and actually seems earnestly shocked. “I thought I was well traveled, but one trip to an American grocery store has me proven wrong!”

“W-we can’t,” Yuuri tries, despite knowing it’s a lost battle.

“Oh c’mon.” Phichit wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders again. “It’s not like you’re training or anything.”

For a moment Yuuri stiffens, but before he can say anything, Vitya walks up a little closer.

“Well.” Vitya tilts his head like he’s looking at some endangered animal in a zoo, and not doughnut bacon cheeseburgers. “You’re obviously not going back to the ice anytime soon, so Phichit has a point. Even if it’s disgusting.”

The words knock the fight and the breath right out of Yuuri. It’s not like Vitya’s wrong. Yuuri doesn’t have any hope of skating professionally anytime soon, and he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to skate when he gets back to Hasetsu. Yeah, maybe he can go with Phichit to practice a little tomorrow, but that won’t get him in shape, or any make him more of a decent athlete.

Yuuri shrugs away Phichit’s arm. “Fine. Get whatever you want.”

Phichit hesitates, eyes searching Yuuri. “If you really don’t want it, we won’t get it.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yuuri—“ Vitya starts, and…

And that Yuuri can’t take. He can’t hear Vitya second that sentiment. He may not be Victor, but that’s his voice and his slight accent, and his eye, and—Yuuri _can’t_.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Yuuri says, turning and walking away before either his hallucination or Phichit can say anything.

Yuuri keeps his eyes down as he goes, so hopefully no one else notices him blinking away the tears as he moves as fast as he can to the front of the store. Luckily this is _Walmart_. There are stranger things here than a crying man—including, unbeknownst to the people shopping, a naked hallucination version of a famous athlete.

He makes it to the bathroom and shuts the door on a stall before the hysterical laughter bubbles out of his chest and the tears stream down his face. This is… it’s too much.

His knees threaten to buckle, but of _course_ he chose a stall with a disgusting toilet, this is a Walmart. So he turns toward the door and crouches on the ground, covering his face with his hands and pushing up his glasses before muffling his laughs or his sobs—he doesn’t know which they are anymore

Things that Yuuri can’t explain are normalcy in his life. His best friend glows. He has four, small dragon paw prints below his left ear to symbolize his connection to a creature he can’t even _talk_ to. But this is… this is too much. He can’t handle Vitya—if he’s fake, and especially if he’s real—not after Sochi, not after having to let go of his dream. He has to go home with absolutely _nothing_ to show for himself, after all the time and money that his family had invested in him, and _he doesn’t want to_.

Yes, he wants the quiet comforts of his childhood home, he wants his loving parents, and the warm bluntness of his sister. But he doesn’t want to see how the town’s moved on without him. He doesn’t want them to have to accept him like this.

And Vitya… He doesn’t want any pity or sympathy from him either. He doesn’t want evidence that he’s lost his mind. And if Vitya _is_ real, he doesn’t want a soulmate to show up because he’s hit rock-bottom. If he has any other soulmates out there besides the ones he’s found, Yuuri wants to be able to sweep them off their feet, to show them that he’s not worthless, but…

But can he prove something that’s not true?

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri opens his eyes—then squeaks and jumps back.

Vitya’s on the floor, looking up from underneath the stall door.

“V-Vitya!” Yuuri manages to get out. “What if I was _peeing_?”

“I could hear you—” Vitya cuts himself off with a frown. “Well, I’ve been calling for you. I even knocked on the door when no one was looking, and you didn’t answer, so I was worried.”

Yuuri wipes at his face, looking away from Vitya. “I’m fine.”

Vitya huffs. “You need to stop saying that when you don’t mean it.”

“And _you_…” Yuuri jabs a finger down at him. “You need to get off the floor, you’re in a _Walmart_.”

“I noticed.” Vitya raises his eyebrows. He opens his mouth again, almost shuts it, and then speaks, “I’m pretty sure I don’t carry pathogens like this, considering no one but you can touch me.”

“I…” Yuuri’s never exactly thought of it in those terms, specifically, and a slight warmth blooms in his cheeks. How weird would it be to be the only one who could touch Victor Nikiforov?

“Besides, to continue our argument: _you_ can definitely keep ice skating if you want to, you know.” Now it’s Vitya’s turn to point a finger at Yuuri. “The only one keeping you from skating is you, Yuuri.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Yuuri snaps, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment. “I could keep trying, but I just… it’s just… I fucked up, okay? To the point that the JSF is pissed at me, and I don’t think I got into any ice shows this year—if I _ever_ got into _any_ without Celestino helping out. It’s… it’s time to go home. I’ve tried this path for long enough, okay?”

Vitya stares at him for a long moment before taking the hand that was just pointing at Yuuri and resting it on Yuuri’s calf, instead. “If that’s what you want, Yuuri.”

_It’s not_.

The thought hits Yuuri with a clarity that almost takes his breath away. He doesn’t want to go to Japan. He doesn’t want to give up skating. He doesn’t want to stop competing.

It should be something totally obvious, after the thoughts that he’s had about going back to Hasetsu. But the problem is that he doesn’t want to stay _here, _either. He loves the people in both places, he’s had good memories in both. But here, in Detroit, Yuuri’s falling to pieces. In Hasetsu, Yuuri will have no choice but to stagnate.

And these thoughts are _way too deep_ to be having in a Walmart bathroom stall with a naked Victor Nikiforov lookalike laying on the floor and staring up at Yuuri.

“I…” Yuuri swallows.

What does he want?

What can he _have_?

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri jumps back and out of Vitya’s grip. “Phichit?”

“Yeah. Um. Were you talking to yourself?”

Yuuri glances down at Vitya. Well, technically, yeah, he was. But Phichit’s probably already super worried, so, “I was just… trying to work some things out.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” There’s quiet for a moment, and Yuuri both dreads and wants to know what expression Phichit has on his face, and if he even remotely believes Yuuri. “Anyway, are you… do you need anything?”

Yuuri swallows. “No. No, I just… I needed a minute.”

“Yeah.” Phichit draws in a breath. “I don’t want to rush you, but we’re gonna be late for our bus—”

Yuuri jumps forward, slamming open the bathroom door. “But the groceries—!”

“I finished up while you were in here. The groceries are in a cart outside the bathroom, because, ew.” Phichit smiles. “It’s faster to shop when I don’t have my junk food addict with me.”

Yuuri snorts. “Yeah, says the king of stopping and taking pictures of _everything_.”

“Hey!” Phichit crosses his arms. “I was good today. Anyway, c’mon, let’s go.”

Phichit turns and heads out of the bathroom, Yuuri hesitates for just a moment to look back at where Vitya sits on the floor. They look at each other for a moment, Vitya studying Yuuri, before he gets up and begins to trail Yuuri without saying a word.

Not that Yuuri could respond now that Phichit’s kinda around, but that’s not the point. Vitya doesn’t really stay quiet all that often.

But the moment he’s out of the restroom, Phichit’s got a hold of Yuuri’s hand and they’re sprinting through the store to the exit, busting through the doors and grabbing their bags out of the cart with hardly a glance back, and Yuuri can’t help a small laugh escape from his lips, despite the rollercoaster of emotions that today has been.

How can a day be so _long_ when he’s only a few hours into it?

They make it just in time for the bus, and Vitya naked on American public transport continues to be something horrific that will haunt his nightmares—and dreams, if he’s being totally honest with himself—for the rest of his life. At least it’s not as bad as the ride _to_ Walmart, that’s something he’d rather not think about ever again.

In a stupor, Yuuri helps Phichit haul the bags up to the apartment, Vitya hovering around them and trying to peek into what they got. Yuuri barely resists the urge to swat him away, even if he can’t really touch Vitya right now. By the time they’ve put everything where it belongs and scarfed down some food, Yuuri wants to pass out again.

Which is stupid. He _just_ woke up.

He stands in the living room for a moment, staring at the couch and wondering if he should dare sit down—passing out on that damned couch has lead to way too many aches and pains the day after. And if he sits down, he’s going to fall asleep. No ifs, ands, or buts.

“You’re dead on your feet.” Phichit pokes Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri sways a little before he catches himself.

“I’m fine,” he says, before snapping his mouth shut and glancing out of the side of his eye at Vitya—who’s frowning at him, of course he is.

“Sure.” Phichit raises his eyebrows. “What time did you say you went to bed last night? Or, well, this morning?”

“Uh…”

“That’s what I thought. If you’re going to join me on the ice tomorrow, you better get some rest!” Phichit spins Yuuri on the spot and starts guiding him back to his room.

“B-but I—!”

“_But_ you got out of the apartment more today than you have in a while and we _both_ know you don’t sleep.” Phichit opens Yuuri’s door, then turns back to Yuuri. “Don’t make me tie you down to your mattress, you know I’ll do it.”

Vitya steps into Yuuri’s room, turning around with a bit of a smirk on his face. “Oh? You’re into that kind of thing, Yuuri?”

Yuuri lets out a breath, carefully keeping his eyes off of Vitya. “I don’t deserve you, Phichit.”

Phichit beams. “You totally _do_ deserve me. We’re soulmates, aren’t we? Now _sleep_.”

Phichit nudges Yuuri into his room after Vitya, and Yuuri barely has enough awareness to take off his pants before collapsing on top of his bed for the second time that day.

The blankets shift and are tugged out from underneath him, and Yuuri turns in time to watch them drift back down, and for Vitya to pluck Yuuri’s glasses from his face.

“You could still fall asleep through a volcanic eruption, couldn’t you?” Vitya grins down at him.

Yuuri grunts.

Vitya hesitates, just a split second, before his typical smile spreads across his face. “Well, if you’re going to sleep, then I might as well sleep with you!”

_That_ gets Yuuri to open his eyes all the way. “W-w-what?”

“Ah.” Vitya’s smile falters slightly. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I suppose you and Phichit are soulmates, and very close, so sharing a bed with another man wouldn’t be appropriate, hm?”

“Phichit and I aren’t like that_. _He’s important to me, but he’s a friend and to anything else. I just… You aren’t going to sleep, right?” Yuuri squints up at Vitya, trying to make out the finer details of his expression. “You could wander the apartment, or go outside, or anything. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I know. But I _want _to. I don’t… Makkachin gives great hugs, but it’s been a while since I’ve had one of yours and, don’t tell Makka, but I think I prefer yours a little more. There’s less slobber involved.”

“Oh.” Yuuri wants to question it, wants to find fault in that statement, but he’s just so _tired. _He hasn’t cried that much in a day since… Maybe after Sochi? There’s been plenty of pain, sure, but the tears are rarer, and they always leave him so raw. Yuuri tries to find reasons that Vitya shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as him, but he comes up with none. “Then I… I guess it’s okay.”

Vitya _beams_, and then lifts up the sheets, and crawls in and—

Oh no, he’s still naked.

Yuuri grabs a bunch of sheets and shoves the fabric between them.

Vitya pouts, scooting as close as he can. “But then how can I cuddle with you?”

Yuuri doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes, just pulls an arm out from his cocoon of blankets and throws it around Vitya.

And Vitya lets out a shuddering breath.

“Good?” Yuuri murmurs, his eyes already closed.

“Good,” Vitya answers, pushing an arm beneath the blankets and Yuuri, then putting his arm around Yuuri ever so slowly, like one of them might break. “So good.”

Yuuri hums and snuggles in a little closer. Vitya’s hand tentatively plays with the short hairs at the nape of Yuuri’s neck, and that’s the last thing he remembers before sleep takes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri in canon came to his conclusions on his own, of course, but he’s being prompted to move forward a little faster (and slower, in ways) by his very naked Vitya! Anyway, I hope the Walmart chapter didn't disappoint? I know that this fic has already kinda become known for it. X'D
> 
> Also, tfw you have to Google to make sure hot dogs are a thing in Russia. Also also, yes, all of this food is/was real. Maple bacon poptarts were a thing (though I think in Canada?), I saw the horror that is bacon cotton candy in person at a dollar store, and I heard second-hand about the doughnut bacon cheeseburgers spotted at--you guessed it--a Walmart.
> 
> Also always, thank you and bless you to [Crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for betaing, and [Kathe](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts) and [Alice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterpile/profile)for alphaing! And thank YOU guys for continuing to give this fic a shot!!! I'm so worried about this big ol' chonk of a fic because I care about it so much.
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//)


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mention of a panic attack this chapter! It's just thinking about a past one, but better to warn and be safe than sorry.

Yuuri wakes up alone.

It shouldn’t be surprising. It shouldn’t be disappointing. But of course it is. Yuuri shifts in the warmth under his covers, fingers searching and finding nothing and no one. His stomach sinks a little, though he knows it’s for the best. If he’s stopped hallucinating, he’s getting a little better. This is good.

And… Yuuri’s had the best sleep he’s had in ages. He snuggles in a little deeper beneath the blankets, and instead of reaching for nothing, he grabs his pillow and pulls it close. Yuuri may sleep like the dead, but once he’s up he’s _up_. Still, nothing’s going to stop him from enjoying the warmth and comfort of his bed. Nothing except…

Except _skating_.

Yuuri sits bolt-upright in bed. He was supposed to go to practice with Phichit this morning, he was supposed to set an _alarm_, but instead he just fell asleep with Vitya—

Oh no, he _can’t_ think about that—about how nice it felt with Vitya’s arms around him, and his fingers in Yuuri’s hair, and _nope_.

Yuuri scrambles for his phone, jabbing at it until it wakes up and…

Oh.

It’s earlier than even Phichit gets up to skate.

Well, he did only stay up for a few hours yesterday before passing out again… Yuuri wrinkles his nose. He really has turned into a gremlin, lately.

Ugh, he’s picking up too much meme terminology from Phichit. Yuuri should _never_ have introduced him to Tumblr. He created a monster. But… it does make Phichit happy. And Phichit’s been so good to him…

Yuuri sighs. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, he supposes. And, well, he really owes Phichit for putting up with him yesterday.

* * *

It’s a little while longer before Phichit emerges from his room—and when he does, he nearly runs face-first into a wall at the sight of Yuuri in the kitchen. Or maybe it’s just because Yuuri’s _awake_ for once. Or the fact that he’s in his workout clothes and not just sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt.

Not that the last one’s much of an upgrade, but still.

“Uh…” Phichit manages to get out, cautiously eyeing the eggs that Yuuri had just finished cooking. It had been a while since Yuuri’s tried to make tamagoyaki, and the ingredients they had from their last run to the Asian market run are _old_… but it seems edible? “This is new. Normally I have to literally drag you from your bed in the morning.”

Yuuri gives a tentative smile and a shrug. “I slept a lot? I guess? So I… got up.”

Phichit stills, turning fully to Yuuri. “That’s… good?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri nods. “I think so.”

“And…” Phichit clears his throat. “You’re coming to the rink? Or are you just going jogging?”

“No.” Yuuri grimaces. “No jogging. Jogging’s gross.”

Phichit snorts and then starts getting his breakfast together, filling his mug of water and placing it in the microwave—now _that’s _gross.

“Are you sure?” Phichit asks once his back’s turned. Maybe he doesn’t want to see Yuuri’s reaction—Yuuri doesn’t blame him. “Not that I don’t want you to come! I totally want you there. It’s just… you know, last time… Uh, it didn’t go good.”

Understatement of the year.

Last time Yuuri went onto the ice was right after Nationals, and right as he was gearing up for finals. He was just going to do some figures to get the buzzing anxiety out of his system, but seeing Phichit land all his jumps when Yuuri had screwed up _all _of his at Nationals just made the buzzing _worse._ So he tried to skate one of his routines, and, well. He may have had a full-on panic attack in the ice rink.

Celestino had no idea what to do—the poor guy could try his best to handle competition jitters, but Yuuri having a complete breakdown in a _public venue_ was a little bit beyond his knowledge of expertise. Luckily Phichit’s much more experienced in that department and helped Yuuri breathe through it, and then helped him take the bus back to the apartment—cutting his own practice short.

Yuuri still feels pretty shitty about that.

And there’s no guarantee Yuuri won’t break again. He might get on the ice and just… shatter. It’s not like he didn’t just have one hell of a hallucination yesterday or anything.

But he just… he can’t keep going like this. Even without a hallucination busting into his life yesterday, it was only a matter of time before everything had to change. This isn’t living. And he doesn’t know _what_ he wants to live for yet, with everything he’s ever reached for shattered into tiny, sharp shards around him—but he knows that where his head is at this morning is different than where it was last time he tried to skate. Something about actually talking about everything that’s happened to him and having Vitya _listen_ has made something… shift. And the heavy grief of what’s happened isn’t gone, it could easily roll right back into place, but he should be okay, if just for today.

That doesn’t stop him from worrying, but it _won’t_ stop him from moving forward either.

“Yeah.” Yuuri gives a sigh. “Last time sucked. But if you don’t mind, I want to try again. I mean, if you _do_ mind just tell me and I’ll—”

“Katsuki Yuuri.” Phichit turns and jabs a spoon at him, expression darkening. “If you _dare_ to imply that I don’t want to spend one of the few remaining days with you sharing the ice, I will yeet you out the window.”

Yuuri glances at the window, and then looks back at him. “I bet you can’t even lift me up.”

Phichit’s eyes narrow. “You wanna bet?”

“Maybe.” Yuuri smirks.

Phichit’s façade drops, and he snorts out a laugh. “It’s good to see you doing better today, Yuuri.”

“It’s good to be _doing_ better,” Yuuri admits, shoulders slumping a little.

Phichit just grins, patting Yuuri on the back. “Let’s eat food so we don’t pass out on the ice, and then get going.”

“Hey, that _almost _happened _once_, okay? And I was a little sick and—yeah, _fine,_ I shouldn’t have been skating, fine.”

Phichit only snorts in response, and they get to business, shoving their faces full of food while getting their things together. Yuuri’s gaze keeps wandering to the table—something that rarely ever gets used on mornings with practice—and his brain unhelpfully provides the image of a _very_ realistic naked Victor Nikiforov sitting there.

Though he can’t exactly be sure about how realistic _some_ parts are. Victor’s been in some… interesting photoshoots, and Yuuri’s seen a lot of skin. But not all of his skin.

Unless Vitya is actually…

No. It’s done. It’s over.

Phichit and Yuuri barely catch the bus, as is their usual style, and before Yuuri knows it, his skates are laced, and he’s standing at the entrance to the rink, the sharp, icy air cutting through his clothes, his breaths coming a little too quickly.

“You all right?” Phichit skates up to him as Yuuri stands frozen, his limbs unwilling to move.

That’s funny, isn’t it? Being frozen in an ice rink.

Oh no, he’s so panicked his jokes are as bad as Phichit’s.

“Fine!” Yuuri squeaks. “I’m fine. I’ll just…” He forces himself a step forward, taking off his skate guards, and stepping on the ice and… And he’s still standing.

It isn’t magic, he isn’t suddenly better and okay with everything. But he’s on the ice. He’s standing. He can _do this_.

Celestino barks something at Phichit, so he gives a quick smile before zooming off around the rink.

Yuuri takes another second to just stand there, shifting a little on his feet until he feels too awkward to keep standing in everyone’s way. He makes slow laps around the rink at first, enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair, against his already chilled skin. And he enjoys _seeing_—he’s absolutely forbidden himself from trying his jumps or any sort of fancy footwork that would send his glasses flying across the rink. He may have left his glasses on as insurance that he wouldn’t do any of that, since he can’t afford a new pair.

Then he begins to weave in some footwork to his movements, bits of familiar things from routines, or just movements inspired by whatever music is being played for whatever skater at the time. Yuuri’s mind goes quiet—but not in a numb sort of way, like it has been lately with his exhaustion and binge gaming and junk food comas.

It’s just… good to be moving. To remember why he loves skating, to enjoy that feeling of flying, to move with the music and his emotions and let them _out_.

Before he knows it, Phichit’s skating up toward him, asking if he’s ready to head back and, well. No, he isn’t. He wants to do more, he wants to stay longer, he wants to skate his comfort program until his muscles ache.

But he can’t do that.

So he agrees to leave, and they duck out—Yuuri’s very careful to avoid looking directly at Celestino or saying a single word to him—and go back to the apartment. They play a game of rock, paper, scissors that Phichit wipes the floor with Yuuri in, so he gets first dibs on a real shower. Honestly, Yuuri would probably have let him go first anyway, considering he’s the one who had the real workout. Besides, Phichit has dance and conditioning later today at a different facility. It’s only fair.

So Yuuri shuffles over to plop face-first onto the couch—

And there’s a knock on the door.

Yuuri freezes for a second, trying to remember if Phichit mentioned anything about someone coming over, or a package, or something, but… no. Yuuri would remember that. He _hates_ answering the door.

But Phichit’s in the shower, so he has no choice.

With a long-suffering sigh, Yuuri goes to the door and yanks it open.

A guy shoves something into Yuuri’s face.”Here you go.”

Yuuri blinks down at the… pizza box? A _giant_ sheet pizza box.

“Uh… I didn’t order a pizza.” Yuuri says, fingers twitching to reach out and take the box, anyway. Fate can’t tempt Yuuri like this; cheese doesn’t exactly agree with his digestive system, but also… _it’s so good._

The guy looks between the number on the door, and Yuuri. “Look, this is where they told me to deliver it to. If you don’t take it, I’m just going to toss it.”

Yuuri blinks. “I would, but… I’m broke. I can’t afford it.” Not something _this big_.

“You don’t need to pay for it.”

“Is it paid for?” Yuuri’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” the guy pops his p. “Even covered the tip.”

Yuuri’s never snatched anything so fast in his life, the door already half-way closed before he pauses. “You sure?”

The guy snorts, walking away.

Well, that counts as permission, doesn’t it?

Yuuri scrambles across the room, placing the pizza down on the dining table and opening it and… _oh god_.

It’s just cheese, but there’s so much of it, oozing when he pulls off a piece. And the _smell_. Fresh baked dough, and oily, rich cheese, and the sharp tang of tomatoes—this isn’t some generic chain pizza. This is the good shit.

Yuuri takes a bite, still standing at the edge of the table, no plate in sight—and he _moans_. This is the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth. This is the best thing he’s ever experienced. Skating this morning? Nothing compared to this pizza.

Before he even realizes it, the first piece is gone and Yuuri grabs another, but pauses before putting it in his mouth. He doesn’t _really_ know where this came from. Well, there’s the name of the place on the box, he could Google it, but who bought this for them?

His brain instantly jumps to the most impossible choice, of course; Vitya was here, in this apartment. He might have sent something.

But, no. The most reasonable possibility is that Phichit ordered it for them while Yuuri wasn’t paying attention, maybe before they even got into the locker room.

Either way, Yuuri isn’t going to let it go to waste.

He shoves the next piece in his mouth, feeling a moment of disapproval about breaking his diet before remembering that doesn’t _matter_ anymore. He isn’t going to Worlds and if he wants to eat half of this pizza, no one can stop him. In fact, he would fight the universe itself for his right to keep shoving his face full of this delicious goodness.

“Holy crap.” Phichit pauses in front of the table—Yuuri didn’t even hear him come out. He blames food euphoria. “That’s one hell of a pizza.”

Well, it _was_ one hell of a pizza. Yuuri’s made a good dent in it and he regrets _nothing_.

Well, not yet at least.

“Did you order it?” Yuuri glances over at Phichit, his hair still a little damp from the shower.

Phichit snorts. “No, of course I didn’t. I’m as broke as you after getting not-pizza foods yesterday. Why? Did _you_ get it?”

Yuuri frowns at the pizza. “The delivery guy was _sure_ that our apartment was the right one, and he said that it was already paid for…”

Vitya could have seen his apartment number and his street name yesterday. And it’s not like any other details couldn’t be filled in with Google. And he could easily look up any pizza place that delivers, and give them a call and order… Yuuri could probably call the place and see if the person that ordered the pizza had a slight Russian accent.

Except he _won’t_ because Vitya isn’t _real_. He can’t be real. Yuuri’s trying to get back on his feet and dealing with his idol in the flesh—or rather, not in the flesh but with a lot of flesh showing—is not an option. Yuuri can’t—he just _can’t_.

“Yuuri, you okay?” There’s a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and suddenly Phichit’s right next to him. “Look, don’t worry about it. It’s not like it’s poisoned, you’d totally be dead by now, and besides! It’s probably the neighbor getting our addresses mixed up again. Remember the package a couple of months ago?”

Yuuri grimaces. How could he forget? He grabbed the box without thinking, opening it because he’d ordered a new controller for his console and _assumed_ that’s what the package was.

It was _not_.

He didn’t even _know_ about kinks like that. Like, honestly, it looks _painful—_ though it explains the noises that Phichit and he hear from next door sometimes.

“I remember,” Yuuri finally grumbles. “You’re right. I just…”

“You saw free pizza and you took it.” Phichit pats him. “As any reasonable person would do. I think that the pizza’s getting to your head. Go shower it off and then we can chill out until I have to leave.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri sighs. “You’re right.”

“Yep, I know,” Phichit says before he digs into the pizza himself.

“Hey, what about your diet?”

Phichit winks. “What Celestino doesn’t know what hurt him. I won’t have _too_ much, I swear. Now shoo! Go shower!”

Yuuri snorts and heads off to go and shower. Phichit’s right. The neighbors have been idiots before, and even if it’s _not_ them, there’s gotta be some other reasonable explanation. It’s terrible when things happen that just feed his anxiety like this, but it’ll be done, soon. Eventually Yuuri’s going to be in Hasetsu, and… until then, he’s going to skate and try to chase off his dumb nervous demons.

When Yuuri emerges, Phichit’s in his own food coma, sitting on the couch. Yuuri flops down next to him and Phichit collapses onto his lap while Yuuri grabs the controller to his console.

“Too… much… pizza…” Phichit moans into Yuuri’s thigh.

Yuuri pats him directly on the face as he starts up his current RPG addiction. “No such thing.”

“Not all of us have black holes for stomachs.” Phichit pushes off Yuuri’s hand, but he’s grinning.

“I _wish_ my stomach was a black hole.” Yuuri sighs, navigating through the title screen. “It doesn’t get sucked away and torn to shreds into some far off section of the universe, it all goes right to my stomach, my thighs, and my butt.”

Phichit snorts. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, like you don’t have half the campus checking you out in season and off season.”

Yuuri snorts right back at him. “Phichit, be serious.”

“I _am_ being serious!” Phichit lets out a long-suffering sigh, dramatically tossing his hand up over his eyes and nearly taking out Yuuri’s glasses in the process. “When will oblivious heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri stop his reign of terror?”

Yuuri nearly spits out that he’ll be gone and out of everyone’s hair soon enough, but he stops himself just in time. Instead, he just says, “Shut up,” shoves at Phichit’s shoulder, and gets sucked into his game for a little while as Phichit passes out into a true food coma.

It’s nice to have this normalcy. With Yuuri’s weird hours and Phichit getting ready for Worlds, he hasn’t seen much of his best friend—and he can’t exactly say that it wasn’t on purpose, either. But… it’s nice to have things back to normal for now, before Yuuri goes back to Hasetsu, and Phichit’s eaten alive with training and school starting up again. It’s settling.

Or, at least it is until arms wrap around Yuuri’s shoulders and Yuuri nearly jumps through the roof.

“Yuuri! Did you enjoy my pizza?”

Oh no. No, no, _no._

Yuuri stays still and quiet for a long minute, waiting for Phichit to rouse—but he’s used to Yuuri jostling him through boss fights and a couple of cursed rhythm games that might have caused Yuuri to throw the controller against the wall. A few times.

“You didn’t send it.” Yuuri finally whispers, his heartbeat ringing in his ears. “You couldn’t have sent it. It was the neighbors screwing up their address again like they did with all of that kink stuff, _you are not real_.”

But what if he is? The thought echoes around Yuuri’s head in a cacophony of sound, getting louder and louder and _louder._

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya half-laughs and half-whines as he settles his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Did you not like it? Is that why you’re being a grump?”

“I’m not being a grump. I’m slowly but surely losing my mind, despite my best efforts.” This is fine. Everything is _fine_. “God, I wish it were more kink stuff so it was easier to dismiss.”

Vitya’s quiet for only a second before asking, “Did you keep the—”

“We aren’t talking about this! I’m playing video games while Phichit sleeps. There’s nothing else. Absolutely nothing else.”

For a long while, Yuuri almost dares to think and hope Vitya’s shut up.

He should’ve known better.

“What can I do to prove to you that I’m real?” Vitya reaches up and tucks an unruly lock of hair behind Yuuri’s ear—he should get it cut before he heads back to Japan. “Please, Yuuri. Just give me your phone number, it’s as simple as that. I’ll text you and then you’ll know. _Please_.”

Yuuri very, very carefully steps around the urgency in Vitya’s voice, the desperation in his words. Of course Vitya would be like that; Yuuri would want Vitya to be Victor that badly.

“No,” Yuuri says firmly, but trying his best not to be unkind. “No, Vitya. I have to get better. So just… for now, this is what it is. It’ll go away eventually.”

“Just like your career?” Vitya huffs. “Just like skating and all your dreams?”

Yuuri stiffens, gripping his controller so tight he’ surprised he doesn’t break it. “Yes. Just like that.”

“_Yuuri_, I didn’t—”

“_No_, Vitya, that’s enough,” Yuuri snaps, barely keeping his voice low. “You’re right. It’s exactly like my career, and I will be going to _Japan_ and you will _disappear_ and everything will go back to _normal _and the world will forget about me_._”

For a moment, Vitya’s quiet, and in that time Yuuri almost takes back his words again and again. But Vitya said the truth, and Yuuri might as well throw his truth out there, too.

Even if neither truth quite sits right with Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s rock, paper, scissors and I will die on this hill, heathens.
> 
> Jk, jk (kinda). I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a let down after the Walmart chapter! Yuuri's had time to process and make (baby step) progress! Vitya is still, well, Vitya. What will they do next? 👀
> 
> Thank you so, so much to [Crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for making sure this is not as big a mess as it could be, and to my lovely alphas for cheering me on!!! And thank YOU, dear reader, for sticking with me past the infamous Walmart chapter. :D <3
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//)


	5. Five

If there is a torture method worse than packing and moving, Yuuri has yet to find it. How the hell did he accumulate so much crap? He’s spent his whole college career exhausted between studying and skating and competitions, he couldn’t have bought much. He even spent his first few years here being a hermit before Phichit busted in and insisted on being shown around Detroit—as if Yuuri knew any more of it than him.

But even then, it’s not like he went on shopping sprees. The only things he purposely kept buying were his Victor posters, which is honestly the worst part of packing. But it’s not the amount that makes it difficult.

No, it’s that not only is Vitya still around and very pleased about this, he also insists on _helping_.

And by “helping” it seems he meant uncovering Yuuri’s deep, dark secrets. After about a week of having Vitya’s assistance, Yuuri might be about to lose his mind.

Vitya gasps, kneeling over a box that he pulled out from underneath Yuuri’s bed—and nothing good exists in that abyss. “So you _did_ keep the package from your neighbor. Wow, I’ve never seen magic used so… _creatively_.”

Yuuri stomps across the room, yanking the box from Vitya and dumping it in the trash. “Of course I didn’t just throw it out, it wasn’t mine and I…”

Vitya pouts. “You don’t want to try it out?”

Yuuri splutters for a second. “It’s just—it’s ridiculous! What do you even do with all those straps?”

“I have an idea.” Vitya smirks. “I have some… experience with bondage.”

“Of _course_ you do, you have a skating costume based off of bondage—what am I _saying_.” Yuuri groans into his own hands.

“I’d be extremely happy to help you figure out how to use it, Yuuri. I’ll be your test subject,” Vitya purrs into Yuuri’s ear, suddenly much closer than Yuuri remembered or is ready for—Vitya’s not naked, thankfully, but that little black thong is _not_ much better.

“No!” Yuuri squeaks, scrambling backward until he trips and falls onto his bed. “No, no thank you, it’s staying in the _trash _where it _belongs_.”

Vitya pouts, leaning over Yuuri. “You don’t like to play a little, Yuuri? You even remember what that skating costume was inspired by, you never were curious?”

Yuuri flushes, and he catches that glint in Vitya’s eye that means that’s _exactly_ how he wanted Yuuri to react in the first place. Yuuri glares. “It doesn’t matter what I have or haven’t done, I’m not trying _anything_ with my own hallucination.”

Vitya huffs, leaning back a little to put his hands on his hips. “Do you really _still_ believe that I’m not real?”

Yuuri opens his mouth—but hesitates.

Vitya can’t be real. Yuuri still just can’t… he can barely think about it being otherwise.

But it’s getting hard to look around some things.

Like, yeah, maybe Yuuri has some weird, undiscovered magic, because his packing inevitably goes quicker in the afternoons when Vitya appears, as if he’s really there. Even with Vitya’s “helping” to put away Yuuri’s things, _especially_ all of his Victor Nikiforov merch. No one should be so happy to see that much merch of themselves—or, well, their lookalike—but maybe that makes sense as some sort as Vitya’s being an extension of Yuuri’s mind.

Phichit still can’t see him or hear him, but Vitya can still move things when Phichit isn’t looking. Luckily he’s not as distracting now that he’s clothed, but it’s rare that Yuuri lucks out and gets Vitya in PJ pants. Typically he shows up like he is today, in his underwear.

It’s such a _detailed_ hallucination. When Yuuri gets close he can see the pores in Vitya’s skin, the small laugh lines forming around his eyes and mouth, and how shiny and soft Vitya’s hair looks even mussed as it always is. He’s so _present_ that sometimes Yuuri finds Vitya gives a small comfort to his otherwise lonely evenings while Phichit is training. No one cheers him on quite like Vitya does while he’s gaming, even if it seems like he has no idea what he’s saying. If Yuuri’s being honest, it seems like Vitya mostly likes the excuse to lean up against and cuddle with Yuuri while he plays—but would the _real_ Victor Nikiforov be that desperate when he could have nearly anyone on the whole planet?

And then there’s the fact that the real Victor Nikiforov also followed Yuuri’s Instagram account. Though they are—_were_—competitors, that could explain him doing that, right? Even if Yuuri’s been in the senior circuit for years. And he hasn’t posted anything in _months_… maybe he’s just hallucinating notifications at this point, too.

Yuuri can’t think about it too much or for too long. If the thought that this is _real_ starts to settle in, it gets harder to breathe, and his hands get clammy, and his vision gets blurry, and it’s just _not good_. He’s finally doing a little better. He goes to the rink every morning, even when Phichit doesn’t need to go, and he skates. With Vitya wrapped around him every night, he’s started to have somewhat of a decent sort of sleeping pattern again. He’s eating better. He’s getting things packed. Hell, he even called Mari the other day and checked in—he doesn’t know _how_ they’re excited for him to go back to them when he’s such a dead weight, but they are. And… it’s nice to not feel like he’s one little crack away from shattering.

So Vitya is Vitya. Not Victor. And what they have is _good_, it’s _working_. It’s not like the real Victor Nikiforov would be able to leave and follow Yuuri to Hasetsu to just hang out and get to know Yuuri, and Yuuri can’t exactly afford to just hop on a plane to Saint Petersburg—and that’d be creepy, too. Being soulmates isn’t exactly an excuse to busting into someone’s home. Even if they do know each other, and Victor has offered… but that has to be a joke, right? Yuuri tries to imagine himself riding in Victor Nikiforov’s pink convertible through Saint Petersburg, but he just _can’t._

This is fine. This is enough. Even as a small part of Yuuri aches at the fact that he can’t feel the heat of Vitya’s leg as it brushes against his own, at the fact that he can only have Vitya on these long, lazy afternoons.

It’s better than any of the alternatives.

“Fine.” Vitya eventually sighs, drooping a bit as he backs away. “Be stubborn! I’ve always said I like challenges, and I guess those words came back to haunt me.” He squares his shoulders. “I will make you believe I’m real if it’s the last thing I do.”

“You can’t change my mind, Vitya.” Yuuri shakes his head, sitting up. “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing I _want_ you to do.”

“What if there’s something _I_ want to do?” That gleam is back in Vitya’s eye. “What if I want to come to Detroit? I’ve earned a vacation.”

Yuuri gapes. “No!”

Vitya smirks. “You can’t stop me if I _want_ to.”

“Y-You _can’t_!” Yuuri scrambles from the bed, standing up and getting right up in Vitya’s face. “Not just because you’re not _real_, but Worlds is coming up. Yakov would murder you. You’d let all your fans down.”

“What if I don’t care about Worlds?” Vitya’s teasing smile is still spread across his lips, but there’s something darker in the tone of his voice and in the depths of his eyes.

Then… what the reporters were saying might be true. Victor hasn’t answered any questions about what he’s going to do next season. There’s a lot of speculation that he might be taking a break, or even retiring, but Yuuri’s vehemently spoken against that—on anonymous accounts on the internet, at least.

But the look in Vitya’s eyes says a lot more than those interviews ever did.

“Then maybe you’d let me down,” Yuuri murmurs before he thinks about it, then winces when he does.

Vitya blinks a few times, face going blank.

Yuuri barely resists the urge to fidget, and then the urge to run, but before Yuuri can take back his words, Vitya reaches out and takes Yuuri’s hand with a grip just edging on too tight.

“Fine. I’ll stay, then. But you have to promise that you’ll _watch_ me, all right, Yuuri?” Vitya’s eyes search Yuuri’s, wide and… imploring?

“Why?” Yuuri’s brow furrows, trying to figure out how this turned around so quickly.

“It’s going to be for you, of course!” Vitya smiles, and there’s a _hint_ of something honest in there.

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat as the aching inside him breaks, and something cold trickles through him from the wound. Both of Victor’s routines this year are gorgeous, but his free skate means _so much_ too Yuuri. The longing for things you can’t have and aren’t yours resonates deep into Yuuri’s bones, and having that dedicated to him?

It’s too much.

And yet… and yet Yuuri still nods. “Y-You don’t have to, you know. I’ll be watching it anyway, probably.”

“You will?” Vitya blinks. “You’ve been avoiding everything skating related this entire week.”

Yuuri bites back his retort—Vitya would have no way of knowing about Yuuri’s practice sessions in the morning. Except that he’s in Yuuri’s head.

Ugh. This is too complicated.

“I said I will, so I will.” Yuuri turns away and starts wading through the piles of junk and boxes that make up his room.

“Where are you going?” Vitya hops after him, never straying too far from Yuuri.

“Food,” Yuuri answers as he trudges into the kitchen, opening the fridge—and wrinkling his nose. There’s nothing good, it’s all _healthy_. He sighs and yanks out some broccoli and rice, tossing it in the microwave.

When Yuuri turns around, Vitya’s staring at him with a wrinkled nose. “Doesn’t your family run a resort? How are you so uncreative with your diet?”

Instead of answering, Yuuri waits until the microwave beeps, gets a fork and his food, and shoves a bite into his mouth, chewing slowly while making direct eye contact with Vitya—who looks like he might start gagging.

“Please, Yuuri, at least put some sort of sauce on that? It looks like that outfit I wore when I was in juniors—and I imagine that it tastes about the same.”

Yuuri snorts. “The one everyone said looked like kale?”

Vitya huffs. “I’ll have you know it was _broccoli_! It had more body than plain old kale.”

“Hmm,” Yuuri pretends to think. “No, I think I saw kale. So much kale. They even called you kale boy. There were early internet memes and everything.”

Vitya’s brow pinches, his lips thin as he presses then together, before he opens his mouth—

And the front door creaks open, saving Yuuri from certain death.

“Hey Phichit! How was practice?” Yuuri calls as Phichit drags himself into view.

Phichit meets Yuuri’s eyes for a long second before letting out a slow, exhausted moan and continuing to shuffle himself toward the bathroom.

Yuuri smiles, shoving another mouthful into his face.

Vitya mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Disgusting.”

Yuuri chuckles.

And Phichit turns toward Yuuri again, eyes suddenly a lot more alert. “What’s so funny?”

“Uh…” Yuuri scrambles for an answer. “You look like death and sounded like a zombie?”

Phichit’s rolls his eyes. “Wow, thanks.” And he shuts the door behind him.

Yuuri winces, once again. He’s such an _idiot_ sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. But, at least for Phichit, Yuuri can hopefully do something to properly apologize.

He walks across the kitchen, heaving the rice cooker from the cupboard and then grabbing the rice, measuring it out before he begins to rinse it. Regardless of almost driving Vitya up a wall with Yuuri’s ability to stomach almost anything when hungry, he does know how to cook. And now that he’s not training as intensely as Phichit, he has the time and energy to do more.

Though he often gets distracted by Vitya, instead.

“You could just tell him, you know?” Vitya places his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder as he works, like he’s prone to.

Yuuri’s never been one to reach out for affection, but to be honest, having Vitya always hanging off of him in some shape or form is… kind of nice? “Tell who what?”

“Phichit.” Vitya’s dislodged for a moment while Yuuri moves the rice into the cooker. “That I’m here.”

“I’d rather not get checked into a mental hospital when I’m leaving in three days.” Yuuri turns a little to eye him. “Even if you _were_ real, this isn’t a typical soulmate presentation.”

Vitya sighs. “Nothing about this is typical. But if you let me come to visit—”

“It’d be a waste, with how soon I’m leaving. That has to be a hell of a long flight, too.”

“Twelve hours or so,” Vitya chirps cheerfully.

Yuuri turns fully to look at him. “No.”

Vitya frowns. “You told me no, so I won’t. But I _want_ to.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Besides, it’s not like you can remember anything in the morning. That’s how it’s always been.”

Vitya stiffens ever so slightly. “No. I can remember now.”

Yuuri stills for a moment. “I guess that would explain why you’re wearing clothes,” he murmurs, squinting at Vitya. He’s normally a lot more enthusiastic about talking about their connection. “Then why don’t _I_ remember anything when I wake up, since this goes both ways?”

“You…” Vitya clears his throat, eyes landing on anything but Yuuri. “You aren’t there.”

“What?” He can’t mean… no, that’s how it always was.

“You never come visit me in Saint Petersburg. It’s like was when you stopped believing in me and I stopped believing in you when we were younger.” Vitya takes a shaking breath. “Ever since we met again—_really_ met, not in passing in competitions—I’ve come to you every night. But you don’t come to me.”

Yuuri just… gapes. _That_ is what Victor Nikiforov would consider a real meeting? Dismissing a fellow competitor as a fan? Snubbing the _loser_ of the Grand Prix Final and making him feel even worse after failing his beloved pet, and his coach, and his family, and his friends? _That_ was enough for the connection between their souls to reignite?

Never mind _anything_ Yuuri’s ever thought before. If Victor Nikiforov is his soulmate, and that sort of connection is what they have, maybe Yuuri wants nothing to do with him.

“I don’t show up on your end?” Yuuri turns away, walking over to the fridge and yanking it open to grab ingredients. “Well I suppose that makes sense after not getting your _commemorative photo_, don’t you think?”

Yuuri hears Vitya draw in a sharp breath but doesn’t turn to look at him. Instead, he dumps everything on the counter, grabs a knife and cutting board, and starts slicing.

“But, Yuuri, what came after—”

Yuuri snorts. “Nothing came after. I slunk away with my tail between my legs, I fired my coach, and now I’m going back to Japan! It’s what Russian Yuri wanted, and no one else _cares_ other than me.”

“If you wanted to stay on the ice…”

“Then what?” Yuuri gives a cold laugh. “I could keep making an ass of myself until I retire? No thanks. I’ll just…”

A hand wraps around Yuuri’s wrist, stopping the staccato beats of the knife blade against the wooden cutting board. “You’re beautiful on the ice, Yuuri. You aren’t a failure. You had every reason to have trouble at the Grand Prix Final.”

Yuuri turns a little to look at him. “Would you have?”

Vitya’s eyes widen. “If… if Makkachin were…”

“Oh, no, you could afford _her_ treatment, how could I forget?” Yuuri turns back to the food—

But Vitya’s hand comes up to cup Yuuri’s face, turning it back towards him. “If something happened to Makkachin, I would retire on the spot.”

Yuuri nearly drops the knife. “W-what? But you…”

“But I’m human, and Makkachin’s been my best and only companion for years.” Vitya’s gaze stays focused on Yuuri, those blue eyes almost unbelievable so close. “She’s the only one who I’ve felt almost like I could be a soulmate with—until you.”

“Until me,” Yuuri repeats, like saying the words out loud would make them any easier to digest.

They don’t.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re real.” Vitya gives a smile, but it doesn’t reach up to those lines around his eyes.

Yuuri blinks. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to think? Why wouldn’t you believe in this?”

“You don’t show up when I’m awake.” Vitya strokes Yuuri’s cheek, and from this close Yuuri can see he has very faint freckles—they must airbrush those away in photoshoots, and that’s honestly a tragedy. “I only ever see you when I’m asleep. I remember you when I wake up, which I couldn’t when we were kids. And you’ve said it yourself: it’s strange, and there’s no evidence to prove this is reality. How am I supposed to know that this isn’t a dream?”

Yuuri opens his mouth to argue—but he really has no leg to stand on, does he? He told Vitya not to do anything to prove that he’s real, so how can _he_ know that Yuuri’s real? He sent over a pizza, but it’s not as if he got any confirmation that it was delivered to _Yuuri_. He might be able to sort of stalk their apartment through Phichit’s social media, but how would he know he didn’t just imagine what it looks like inside?

It’s not fair.

Yuuri’s made his choice; he’s already felt crazy most of his life for pursuing such wilds dreams when life would’ve been much easier working at the onsen. And proving he’s real to Vitya doesn’t mean that Vitya has to be real to _Yuuri_.

“Whatcha cooking?”

This time Yuuri _actually_ drops his knife, the blade going right through where Vitya’s foot is—thankfully not solid with Phichit’s eyes on him.

Though would it have even hurt if Vitya were solid?

Vitya just sighs as Yuuri turns his attention to Phichit, both of them freaking out about the fallen knife for a minute before falling into small talk as they finish cooking together—it ends up turning into a generic stir fry in the end, but Phichit has a way of seasoning things so they’ve got one hell of a punch—with flavor and heat, always.

But Yuuri’s mind has trouble focusing on the task at hand, his eyes and his mind wandering back to Vitya again and again. Vitya just watches their antics with a small smile on his face, not goading Yuuri into reacting for once. Yuuri has no way to reach out to the real-life Victor Nikiforov, absolutely _no_ connection to him other than having his hallucination hanging around.

Except…

Except for _one_ thing.

Yuuri rushes through the rest of getting dinner ready, depositing their portions onto plates, and then taking his to the table.

“You want to eat there tonight?” Phichit raises his eyebrows. “Isn’t there a new episode of that soap opera you like out?”

“It’s not a _soap opera_, it’s a _drama_,” Yuuri mutters as he takes out his phone.

Phichit gasps. “A food pic? Really, Yuuri?”

Vitya moves a little closer, and Yuuri makes direct eye contact with him.

“Uh… yeah. Mari’s been worried about me eating, so. Evidence.” And that’s not entirely a lie; Mari _did_ worry about his terrible self-care habits last time that they talked.

Phichit shrugs, walking over and flopping down on the couch. “Whatever, when your fans murder you in disappointment that a food pic is all they get after _months_ of silence, it won’t be my fault.”

Yuuri snorts as he angles his phone and gets a few good shots. “_Fans_, sure.”

“He’s underestimating them,” Vitya says quietly, eyeing Yuuri. “Your fans would murder anyone _but _you for a picture of your pinky toe at this point—they’ll be just as happy as your sister to see you’re eating. But… what are you actually doing, Yuuri?”

Yuuri slaps on a decent enough filter to the picture, then hesitates when it comes to captioning it. It should be distinct, something that makes sense. Something like…

_This isn’t a dream._

There. He can say it’s a song lyric if anyone asks.

Yuuri angles his phone toward Vitya, whose eyes widen as Yuuri taps the button to publish the pic.

“There,” Yuuri murmurs, looking up at Vitya. “Proof.”

“Good, now come on!” Phichit waves him over. “I’m about to pass out.”

Yuuri holds Vitya’s wide-eyed gaze for just a moment longer before shaking out of it, and turning toward Phichit. “I thought you didn’t care about this show?”

“I _don’t_, but I’ll probably die if I don’t know if she really died.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes as he flops down next to Phichit. “That’s caring about it, you know.”

“Shut up.” Phichit shoves his shoulder into Yuuri’s before they settle in and the noise of the TV washes around them.

And when Vitya comes over to lay a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, out of Phichit’s sight? That’s all he does. For once, Yuuri’s able to enjoy the evening in peace and quiet, and that’s that.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor’s experience with bondage gear comes from Google, but damn he’s willing and ready to learn more for Yuuri.
> 
> Also, PSA: Avoiding your issues, though easier and very tempting, is not a good answer to your problems. Don’t learn from Yuuri. 
> 
> Thank you, as always, to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for making this even remotely readable, and my alphas for cheerleading along the way. And thank YOU, dear readers, for continuing to give this weird disaster train a chance. :D
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//)


	6. Six

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya whines, his arms wrapping around Yuuri. “You aren’t finished packing, yet?”

Yuuri lets out a sigh, and he’s not sure whether it’s more annoyed or relieved. On the one hand, Yuuri’s _so close_ to being done, and having Vitya means distraction. On the other, Vitya’s later than he usually is. He appears like clockwork, which only makes it harder to believe that he’s real—who falls asleep at the same time every day? But his usual time came and went and Yuuri was left alone. He tried to throw himself into packing to distract himself, but there was only so much he could do to keep his mind quiet.

The only difference between today and yesterday is that Yuuri posted that damn photo. He was able to fool everyone that it was a song lyric—though there are apparently multiple songs with that lyric and he caused a giant fight in the comment section with people debating which one he’s referring to—but, honestly, that isn’t what stuck with Yuuri. What sent his heart racing was that Victor Nikiforov’s official account liked the post.

He’s just being friendly. He’s not Yuuri’s _soulmate_, he knows that. But…

But it was hard not to think that somehow the real Victor seeing that post did something to his Vitya.

All right, _fine_, maybe the sigh Yuuri gave was a little more relieved than annoyed.

“I’d be done packing if you stopped distracting me.” Yuuri’s voice comes out far softer and less teasing than he means, but he can’t help it.

“Oh, should I go then?” Vitya pulls away—

And Yuuri grabs his wrist, smiling a bit. “No, you can make it up by helping me pack _faster,_ for once.”

Yuuri can finally leave him relatively unsupervised now that all his Victor Nikiforov paraphernalia is packed, most of his clothes are put away—he’s never had anyone judge his wardrobe _so much_—and anything even remotely questionable is hidden where Vitya shouldn’t find it. Not that Yuuri has a _lot_ of that, but he’s seen enough of what Vitya will freak out about and distract them both over so he knows better.

Vitya beams, jumping up and grabbing some duct tape—and Yuuri’s not entirely sure he trusts him with that. “Yes! And that way we won’t be late.”

Yuuri stills. “Late for _what_?”

“Secrets!” Vitya scoops up a bunch of Yuuri’s video games, putting them away with such caution and care that Yuuri is almost touched.

But not quite. “No, no, no.” Yuuri gets to his feet, going after Vitya as he flits around the room. “You don’t get to spring surprises on me when we’re in _my_ apartment.”

Vitya raises an eyebrow. “Oh? I guess we never talked about that. Just like we didn’t talk about how it was okay for _you_ to do something to prove you’re real even though _I’m_ not allowed to do a single thing to let you believe in me.”

Yuuri blinks, shrinking back. “You just… You sounded like you wanted it. And you never asked me not to?”

“Oh?” Vitya raises eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound like talking to me about it, Yuuri.”

“Ah.” Yuuri attempts to smile, his fingers twitching a bit at his sides. “It just… never came up?”

“_Oh_?” Vitya repeats, stepping closer. “Then that means—”

“No!” Yuuri interrupts before whatever thoughts Vitya is having can settle into his brain. “Whatever you’re going to say, absolutely no. No way.”

“But Yuuri—”

“Don’t we have to finish packing? For… whatever?”

Vitya hesitates for a moment, _almost_ pushing, but he gives a small smile instead. “You’ll let me surprise you?”

“I…” This is a _mistake_, Yuuri can feel it in his _bones_, but… “I guess. But Phichit—”

“Has a tutoring session until later, and then is heading off to a party that you refused accompany him to even after he offered _multiple_ times.”

Yuuri flinches at that one—Phichit was so disappointed that he wasn’t going, but he _couldn’t_. For one, Yuuri hates to say goodbye, especially to so many people that he barely knows. He could do it, but he doesn’t want to. And if anyone knows the reason behind Yuuri leaving, he’s going to get all sorts of sympathy and pep talks that he doesn’t want, and people will try to convince him to stay and crowd his space and get him drunk, and he’s a _disaster_ when he’s drunk—

It just sounds like a night of being upset and anxious, when instead he can spend his evening finishing up his packing. And… spending it with Vitya. His hallucination. Because he’s not totally sure that Vitya’s going to follow him over to Hasetsu. It’s not like Yuuri has any reason to doubt he will, Vitya’s shown up in Hasetsu before, but he doesn’t _know_.

And going out with Vitya, even if it’s just for a walk because Vitya’s his _hallucination_ and absolutely can’t plan anything for them around the city, sounds… nice. Much nicer than staying in and eating junk food and trying to get past the level he’s stuck on in his current video game obsession.

“Fine.” Yuuri sighs, going for long-suffering but knowing he sounds far too fond.

Vitya steps forward and wraps his arms around Yuuri and—and he _lifts_ Yuuri off the ground, swinging him around.

“V-Vitya!” Yuuri tries to scold while laughing. “Put me down, put me down! What if Phichit came home early and I fall through you?”

He places Yuuri gently down and then taps him on the nose. “You worry too much.”

Yuuri snorts. “No kidding. Next you’re going to tell me that the sky is blue.”

“Well, technically it’s grey right now because of the clouds. Don’t worry though, it’s not supposed to snow tonight.”

Yuuri waves around them at the mess. “We aren’t going anywhere without finishing this up first, though.”

“Of course!” Vitya ruffles Yuuri’s hair, and then becomes even _more_ of a whirlwind than normal.

Yuuri had assumed that Vitya was so terrible at packing because he’d never had to do any packing before—when the real Victor Nikiforov moved into his apartment, he probably could afford to have movers come and take everything. But Yuuri’s not so sure, now. He’s never seen such organized chaos. Honestly, he probably spends more time watching Vitya work than doing anything himself.

Yuuri doesn’t have a lot of experience with packing himself, considering that he lived in the same house for most of his life. When he moved to Detroit it was a _disaster. _He kept worrying about forgetting something, and somehow packed both too little and too much when he came over to America. It took months of worrying, both on Yuuri’s _and _his parents’ part, to send him off with everything necessary—Minako just laughed and heckled at their antics, drawing Mari into it most of the time.

But Vitya has absolutely no problems or reservations with packing, just every once in a while pausing to ask if something belongs to Yuuri or Phichit, and then… before Yuuri can fully process it, it’s done.

“You’re… really good at this,” Yuuri says, eyeing his pile of boxes as if they’re some alien creature—though that’s the opposite of what it really is. This is his life from the past five years. This is everything he’s accumulated and owned. This is… it. This is all he’s bringing to Hasetsu.

“I have experience.” Vitya shrugs, like that even remotely touches on Yuuri’s many, many questions. “Anyway, this means that we can go, doesn’t it?”

Yuuri smiles a little, Vitya’s behavior reminding him a _lot _of a small dog—or maybe a very young dragon. “I-I guess? Do I need to change, or…?”

“No, definitely not.” Vitya reaches out lacing their fingers together. “You’re perfect just the way you are, Yuuri. Now, come on!”

And then Vitya’s dragging Yuuri along, tugging his scarf, coat and hat on him, and then pulling Yuuri right out the door, like he hadn’t just made Yuuri’s heart stop and restart with his words.

Part of Yuuri just wants to _stay_, to curl up on the couch that Phichit and he dragged off the street in a very questionable decision that ended up paying off. Vitya would inevitably octopus around him, and they would sit in the quiet, since Victor just put away the last ofhis games, his phone would only occupy him for so long, and he finished watching the shows he wanted to catch up on with Phichit. And there’s something that’s just too sad about starting something in Detroit that he can’t _finish_ here. He wants to say he’ll come back and visit—but can he afford that?

Vitya tugs him down the staircase, and for once Yuuri doesn’t have to try and make peace with the sight of Vitya in just a thong wandering around in public—he’s had the decency to wear some dark blue flannel pants today. Not that the sight of Vitya’s bare feet out on the snow doesn’t make Yuuri wince.

Still, Yuuri’s grateful, in a way, that Vitya’s here to distract him. He doesn’t want to go down that rabbit hole of feelings, even if he doesn’t exactly want to leave the apartment, either.

They rush out the front door of the apartment building—and Yuuri’s hand falls through Vitya’s.

Vitya stops, looking down at his own hands like they personally insulted him, rather than it being the handful of people on the street at fault.

“Okay, now that we’re outside, where are we going?” Yuuri asks softly, careful to bring up his scarf so no one sees him talking to himself.

“I told you, it’s a surprise!” Vitya smiles as he practically skips ahead down the road.

Yuuri tries to follow as best he can, his steps more careful so he doesn’t slip on the ice. He has a tendency to fall even _more_ on land than he does on the ice, and that’s saying something. And Vitya’s a liar, too—there’s snow slowly starting to flutter down from the sky. But of course Vitya doesn’t know about the weather as a hallucination; even people in Detroit can’t trust what the weather forecasters say. “Are you up to something?”

Vitya turns around, tilting his head a little. “I thought it was obvious that I was?”

Yuuri catches up, and they start walking in pace with each other, Vitya leading them around a few corners. “Well, _yeah_, but are you going to try to prove you’re real or something?”

Vitya lets out a huff of air. “Would that really be so bad?”

Yuuri tries to grab Vitya’s hand, protest on his lips, and they both pause as Yuuri goes right through him.

“This is enough for you?” Vitya whispers, something heavy to his voice.

Yuuri… Yuuri hesitates. It is enough. He’s thought about it and always came to the same conclusion. It’s not worth it to be disappointed when Vitya’s _obviously_ not real, and even if he were real, reality is _always_ more disappointing than some soulmate-fueled fantasy.

It’s better this way.

It has to be better this way.

Vitya’s eyes narrow as the silence continues to stretch on.

Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s enough. It’s more than enough. And now that you have evidence that I’m real and I don’t, we can both be happy, right?”

“Sure,” Vitya says slowly, face unreadable for a moment. Then he perks up, a smile spreading across his face that’s not as wide or as bright as the ones that Yuuri’s used to. “But for now, we’re going out! Come on, we’re getting close. I think.”

“You _think_?” Yuuri sighs, but trudges off after Vitya.

Vitya’s smile becomes a little bit more honest. “_You_ try getting directions on Google Maps for a city that you don’t live in, and that you can’t write down any notes about. At least I know the language well enough to read the signs!”

Yuuri frowns. “Couldn’t you have written it down on your arm? Your clothes appear on you, marker or pen should, too.”

Vitya blinks down at him. “My Yuuri is so _smart_! I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time.”

There might not _be_ a next time with Yuuri moving… but Yuuri bites back that remark. He doesn’t want to see that sadness on Vitya’s face, or to have his smile fade. He had begun to notice while packing up his posters of Victor that the smile that Vitya gives him are different than the ones he saw for years upon years on his wall. He doesn’t really understand what it means, and it only makes it more concerning to realize that he prefers his Vitya’s smile to Victor’s.

Which brings him to the fact that Vitya just called Yuuri _his_ Yuuri. It shouldn’t send a little thrill through him. Not at all. In the least.

But it does.

“Yes! Here we are!” Vitya jumps ahead, and Yuuri stumbles after him—until he sees.

The snow’s coming down a little harder now in thick, white clumps, even though they don’t _look_ white in the wide street that Yuuri’s looking down. For some strange reason there are colored lights _everywhere, _turning the snow into all colors of the rainbow_. _There’s a funnel cake stand, and a mini ferris wheel, a live band playing somewhere amongst it all, and—is that a ball pit? And that’s only what Yuuri can _see_.

“What… what is this?” Yuuri finally murmurs.

Vitya takes advantage of the snowfall and no one looking at them to brush his shoulder against Yuuri’s. “It’s a carnival! Well, a mini carnival. Nothing like what I’ve seen in Saint Petersburg, really.”

“Oh.” Yuuri looks away from the glimmering snow to Vitya’s face. “But I can’t afford—”

“No tickets necessary!” Vitya beams. “A business is sponsoring this to celebrate ‘spring.’” He snorts as he glances around at the snowfall. “Some of the rides are even free.”

Something thrums deep in Yuuri, resonating with how Vitya seems to glow in the dim light of the storm clouds blotting the setting sun, and the colorful lights of the carnival. It’s so… so _thoughtful_. Vitya can be a little-air headed about, well, everything, but when he puts his mind to it, he’s capable of things like _this_. Yuuri takes in a deep breath. “Thank you, Vitya.”

“Of course! Now, let’s look around, shall we?” Vitya beams.

And Yuuri nods; how could he ever resist Vitya looking at him like that?

There isn’t too much to look at. There are other people looking around, but it’s almost eerily quiet. The sounds of instruments echo oddly in the muffled distance through the snow, making it feel like Yuuri and Vitya are trapped in a world of their own.

It’s easier, this way, for Yuuri to pretend that they’re actually together. That Vitya is present and there at his side, able to touch him, able to hold each others’ hands and hold onto each other for warmth.

But almost every time Yuuri wants to touch Vitya to grab his attention, he can’t.

And it just… it doesn’t feel right.

“Aren’t you going to go on a ride, Yuuri?” Vitya smiles at him, small and soft.

“Ah, no.” Yuuri frowns. “You can’t come on the rides, can you?”

“Hmm. Probably not. But you still can.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, ah. It’d be… awkward to go alone.” And, really, Yuuri just wants to stay with Vitya while he can, but no need to let that get to either of their heads.

“Oh.” Vitya frowns. “Well that won’t do.”

“What do you—_Vitya_!” Yuuri hisses as Vitya just walks by someone standing by the entrance of the ball pit, protected from the snow by a tent above it.

Vitya doesn’t answer, just waves for Yuuri to walk around the side of the tent which… Well, why not?

Yuuri slinks around the fence keeping anyone from getting into the ball pit until he’s in a shadow and has no choice but to watch Vitya heft himself into the adult-sized ball pit and make his way toward Yuuri. Not many people are looking this way, so occasionally Vitya will become solid, shifting the balls and making the guy at the entrance jump—no one else seems to want to be in the giant ball pit while it’s snowy and cold out.

“What are you _doing_?” Yuuri whispers the moment that Vitya’s near enough.

Vitya picks up one of the plastic balls, smirking. “Making sure _you_ have fun.” And then he lobs it at a passerby.

The woman nearly jumps out of her skin, making the most ridiculous squeaking noise that Yuuri’s ever heard, and he can’t help it—he laughs.

Vitya beams, grabbing another and another ball until the dirty snow along the ground is littered with bright spots of color, and everyone’s looking at Yuuri like he’s crazy.

“Hey, kid!” The guy at the front of the tent jogs around the fence, stopping by Yuuri. “Are you doing this?”

Yuuri bristles. _Kid_? He looks young, but he’s not a _kid_. “No? I haven’t seen a thing.”

“But… you were just laughing?” The guy frowns.

“Maybe.” Yuuri blinks innocently. “How should I know? I’m just a kid. We laugh at anything.”

The guy stares Yuuri down for a moment longer before starting to back away. “I’m watching you.”

And then a bright, red ball hits the guy dead in the face.

Yuuri howls with laughter, even as the guy starts yelling.

“Run!” Vitya shouts, motioning for Yuuri to follow.

And it’s all Yuuri can do to stumble along after him, the snow falling thicker and thicker by the moment until everything around them is just a haze of yellow light from the streetlamp, and the shimmerings color around them. The sky above them is dark; the sun must’ve set during Vitya’s shenanigans.

Eventually Vitya stops, giving Yuuri a chance to catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” Yuuri wheezes out, unable to wipe the grin from his face.

Vitya shrugs. “The man deserved it! You aren’t a child. You’re the best male singles skater in your country, you’re _Japan’s Ace_ and you deserve to be treated like it!”

“By having a plastic ball thrown into his face?” Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

For a second Vitya meets his eye with a serious expression etched onto his face, and then he dissolves into laughter. “It was the best I could do.”

Yuuri reaches out, taking his hand. “It was great.”

For a long moment, they stay like that. Yuuri can’t help but appreciate the way that Vitya’s hair shimmers in this light, and how the crinkles around his eyes seem deeper and his smile more real than Yuuri’s seen ever before.

And then the music starts up beside them, making them both jump apart with how close and how loud it is. Vitya must’ve led them behind the stage—no wonder they could hold hands, no one else would be back here. The music’s not bad either; it’s something loosely jazzy, but it’s pretty.

And, if no one’s around…

Yuuri holds out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

If Yuuri thought Vitya’s smile was bright before, it holds _nothing _to the expression on his face, now.

“Yes. Always.” And Vitya takes his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who lives up against a great lake, I assume people I Detroit have the same problem re: weather forecasts NEVER EVER being right. So I slapped that in there. Yay.
> 
> If anyone wondered what would happen if people looked away from Vitya while his hands were in Yuuri, nothing would happen—they’d just become solid as he pulled them out. Though I liked playing around with the alternatives, those would all end… very badly. For everyone.
> 
> Thank you so, SO much to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for making this readable, and for my alphas to cheering me along!!! <3 And thank YOU guys for reading!!! Hope you liked having a softer chapter, for once. :'D
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//)


	7. Seven

Dancing with Vitya is… amazing. Familiar in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Yuuri’s cheeks and nose sting and are beginning to go numb from the cold, and he really _should _let go of Vitya for a second to bring up his scarf—it’s especially cold for this time of the year.

But he doesn’t want to.

Vitya and Yuuri twirl around in the heavily falling snow, switching between all sorts of styles of dance, going back and forth between leads, and Yuuri can’t remember the last time he’s smiled so much and his heart has felt so light.

It’s not all perfect. Sometimes they slip on the packed snow on top of a thin sheet of ice. There had been ice storms earlier in winter, and that kind of ice never melts until spring actually hits.

But Vitya catches Yuuri, and Yuuri catches Vitya, their movements fluid and lithe until Yuuri’s breaths come short, and Vitya slows down, pulling Yuuri close and letting him lean against him while they sway back and forth.

Yuuri knows, on some level, that if Vitya wasn’t really here, leaning like this would be awfully hard. All his close calls with falling and slipping should’ve ended in trips to the ER and unfortunate scars that Phichit would either cackle at him or scold him for—or both. Sure, maybe he has some untrained levitating magical ability, but magic is _hard_. Could Yuuri really be naturally good at something so difficult? The control it would take to be able to call up so much magic on demand like this would be… _so_ much. Soulmate magic is easy and everywhere, but regular magic is only helpful for small things, little tasks here and there.

Not constantly catching full-sized human beings, or packing up all of their things in a short span of time.

It hurts to think too much about Vitya being _Victor_. There’s a safety and a comfort in Vitya that doesn’t even remotely exist in Victor, so with all change and big decisions right in front of Yuuri already overwhelming him, he just… he _can’t_.

But his mind wanders to the question that Vitya asked earlier that day; is this enough?

Yuuri pulls back a little, looking up at Vitya, who smiles gently down at Yuuri before reaching out and brushing hair from Yuuri’s face—it’s _really_ getting too long. But between skating in the mornings and Vitya in the evenings… Well, it doesn’t matter.

Yuuri lets out a sigh, leaning into Vitya’s touch. It never gets less strange to feel someone touching you and have no warmth to their skin. But it’s still Vitya and that in itself is a comfort.

Vitya’s smile grows and he leans in a little bit. Not so much that it’s uncomfortable or an invasion of space, but enough so that if he were _really_ there they would be breathing in the clouds of each others’ breaths. And if Vitya was _really_ here, maybe Yuuri could lean in a little closer and—

Vitya goes slightly transparent and Yuuri falls hard, his glasses jumping off his face and skittering away.

It takes a moment for Yuuri’s brain to wrap itself around the concept of up and down, and even longer until he sees the blurry form in the distance peering around a corner and into the little space he and Vitya just shared.

“Yuuri!” Vitya kneels down next to him, trying desperately to touch him but his hands not making contact with anything.

There’s a murmured hush of something that sounds vaguely like, “Sorry,” before the blurry blob of a person turns and disappears from sight.

Vitya’s hands finally land on him—but he still doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Are you hurt? Don’t move—I can get out your phone and help you dial… dammit, what’s the emergency number in the states?”

“Nine-one-one,” Yuuri mutters, lifting his head—and wincing. That’s gonna leave a nasty bruise on his hip, and probably a bump on his head. “It’s fine though. I didn’t land nearly as hard as I normally land on the ice, I just…”

“I’m so sorry,” Vitya’s voice is strained, and Yuuri _just_ can’t make out his expression in the dim lighting and without his glasses. “It’s all my fault, I never should have—”

“Vitya,” Yuuri says firmly, but not unkindly. “I asked you to dance. I should’ve thought it through. It’s not your fault.”

“But I—”

“Can you help me up?” Yuuri reaches out a hand, his teeth beginning to chatter. It’s too damn cold here; that’s one thing he won’t miss about this place when he goes back to Japan.

“Of course, of course.” Vitya grabs his arms and helps to haul Yuuri to his feet, holding a steadying hand to his shoulder as Yuuri sways for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t need your head checked?”

Yuuri smiles slightly. “We both know what a concussion looks like. If it gets worse, I’ll go to the ER. Okay?”

Victor hesitates, but nods.

Yuuri squints at him, and he can see a little better now that he’s steady, but… “Um, can you help me get my glasses? I’d look, but I don’t want to step on them.”

“Of course!” Vitya bends down, scooping them up, then ever so gently placing them onto Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri blinks the world back into focus, the same as it was before, if a bit wetter from the melting snow on his glasses. Snow is still falling, the music’s still playing, and Vitya—there’s a wrinkle of worry between Vitya’s eyebrows now.

“I’m really so sorry,” Vitya repeats, hands cupping the sides of Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri brings up his hands to place them over top of Vitya’s. It’s almost funny how often their hands touch without Yuuri even thinking about it. He just always reaches out and meets Vitya, touch for touch. “It’s not your fault. You’re the one who’s not even really here. I should be thinking more about these things. I don’t blame you, Vitya, don’t worry about it.”

Vitya presses his lips together, obviously wanting to say something but holding it back.

And Yuuri thought _he_ was bad about blaming himself for things that weren’t his fault. But Vitya seems almost… afraid. In a way Yuuri hasn’t even really seen before.

Yuuri squeezes his hands a little. “I had a lot of fun, but I’m getting cold. Let’s go home?”

Vitya’s quiet for just a moment longer, and then he nods. “Yes.” He smiles a little, something small but earnest. “Let’s go home.”

The walk back to the apartment seems to take longer than it did to get to the carnival. But maybe that’s just because of how _cold_ Yuuri is getting, or how often they try to hold hands only for them to fall apart as someone comes through the small snowstorm and looks through Vitya, who makes small little frustrated noises every time.

Either way, when they get back to the apartment, Vitya instantly octopuses around Yuuri, making him laugh a little. “Vitya, you have to let go, I need to take off my coat.”

“No.” Vitya clings tighter. “I’ve barely been able to touch you all night, it was _torture_.”

Yuuri very pointedly does not acknowledge the flush on his cheeks. It’s completely fine if Vitya wants to hug him, but even the idea of someone like Victor Nikiforov wanting to hang off of him like this… “If you let me change clothes, we can go to bed so that you don’t have to let go of me all night, even when Phichit comes home.”

“Really?” Victor’s eyes get wide for a moment, and then he frowns. “But have you eaten, yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I ate earlier.” He probably snacked way too much while packing and waiting for Vitya, but no one needs to know that.

Vitya narrows his eyes but eventually relents, letting go of Yuuri and hovering while he takes off his coat, shuffles to the bathroom to do his nightly routine—locking Vitya on the other side, much to his chagrin—and then wanders back into his bedroom

Yuuri crawls into bed, a little surprised that Vitya isn’t instantly behind him. But when he holds up the sheet in invitation it takes less than a second for Vitya to lay down beside Yuuri, the two of them cramped in the twin bed that they’ve been sharing ever since Vitya first showed up.

Vitya’s limbs wrap around Yuuri, and if they’re a little tighter than normal, well, Yuuri won’t complain. Vitya lets out a deep shaking sigh, but that’s normal. Yuuri doesn’t quite understand whatever emotions run through Vitya’s head at night, but he doesn’t say and Yuuri doesn’t ask.

And tonight, if Yuuri clings a little tighter to Vitya than normal, Vitya says nothing, either.

Yuuri’s not ready for this to end. He’s not ready to leave Detroit and Phichit and his crappy little apartment. He’s not ready to leave Vitya. But he’s not ready for Vitya to be anything else than what he is right now, and—

“I’m sorry it wasn’t as fun as it should’ve been,” Vitya mumbles from where his face is tucked in the crook of Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri tightens his grip around Vitya. “I had a _great_ time. It’s not every day you see practically a ghost chuck plastic balls at people’s heads.”

Vitya huffs softly against Yuuri’s skin, just a slight breeze without the heat and the moisture it should have.

Yuuri frowns. He’s really not getting over this, is he? Vitya has a tendency to put on a happy face even when Yuuri knows there’s something else going on, so for him to just not let this go…

“I also really liked dancing with you,” Yuuri says softly.

Vitya stiffens. “At least until I dropped you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Yuuri rolls his eyes in the safety of the dark room. “Besides, I’d do it again. It was… it was really good.”

“Was it?” Vitya murmurs. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it, what with…”

With… what? With the fact that they’re on borrowed time? The fact that Vitya isn’t real? Either way, it doesn’t really matter to Yuuri, not right now. He’d do it again and again if he could.

A small part of him whispers that he could have this. That if he let Vitya prove he was Victor, he could feel Vitya’s warmth, and could have him all day and all night.

But that’s ridiculous. Victor Nikiforov doesn’t belong around Katsuki Yuuri, they could never go together like this, like Vitya and Yuuri. Vitya’s stuck with Yuuri when he astral projects or whatever. The real Victor Nikiforov doesn’t need him. Yuuri can handle his disappointing existence when it’s just Vitya, but he can’t take Victor. Not right now, not with everything happening.

Maybe… Maybe someday, though.

“I loved it,” Yuuri murmurs, voice a little rougher than he means it to be. “We could go dancing every night, if I wasn’t going back to Hasetsu.”

Vitya tightens his grip and…and is he _shaking_? “Ah, yes. The time difference is changing. I… I’ll dance with you every day if that’s what you want, Yuuri.”

“What do _you_ want, Vitya?”

Vitya’s quiet for a long moment, long enough that Yuuri might wonder if he was asleep, if he could sleep like this. “I want…to spend more time with you. I want to make my mistakes up to you, so you don’t…”

Yuuri nearly huffs. Vitya needs to finish his thoughts, Yuuri’s not a mind reader. But _can_ he push? “Well, you’re stuck with me. And I’m sure you’ll think of something, Vitya. I trust you.”

Vitya pulls back and it’s hard to see his exact expression in the dim light, but Yuuri can tell how his eyes gleam. “Do you? Trust me?”

Yuuri frowns. “I let you pull me around Detroit to wherever you wanted. And I let you help pack my things—did you see Phichit helping with that?”

Vitya raises his eyebrows. “I thought you weren’t letting him help because he was training so hard?”

“Well…” Yuuri gives a slight shrug. “That and he’d make fun of me for…everything.”

“Everything?” Vitya smiles. “Like your posters of me? And that box you kept under the bed despite the fact that—”

Yuuri slaps a hand over Vitya’s mouth. “Yes. That. Now I’m going to go to sleep, good_night._”

Vitya shifts, pushing Yuuri’s hand away and going back to wrapping himself around Yuuri. “Goodnight, my Yuuri.”

And, as it always is when Vitya’s with Yuuri, it doesn’t take long until Yuuri’s deeply asleep.

* * *

Yuuri wishes he could say waking up without Vitya in the morning was less jarring than it was the first day after all this time.

It’s not.

Yuuri’s fingers search for Vitya without thinking about it, and they always come up empty. Still, after the ache of being alone fades, it’s good to fall into a routine.

He only ever gets up to his alarm nowadays, so no more fresh breakfast for him or Phichit. But they’re both pretty practiced in rushing through their morning routines to barely catch the bus and avoid having to jog to the rink—it’s great exercise, especially when the weather’s nice, but it is _not_ nice, yet.

And once they get into the rink, Yuuri steps onto the ice and it’s like a breath of relief flowing through his entire body. After he warms up, it’s easy to flow into the familiar motions of a routine that isn’t his, despite the fact that it feels like second nature to him at this point. Phichit says hat he’s so good he should record it and send it to Victor Nikiforov himself, but Yuuri could _never_. He can’t even let Victor know, much less show the entire world how much of a fanboy he is.

No, for now… this routine is private, and it’s his.

Phichit and him chat about Worlds on the way back, avoiding the subject of Yuuri leaving like it’s the plague. And from there it falls into the usual sort of nightly routine. They throw together lunch, clean up, and lounge around the house. Today Phichit doesn’t have anything until some sort of dance lessons tonight, so Yuuri doesn’t have to be alone while waiting for that hovering, nonexistent clock above his head to get closer and closer to his time in this apartment being over. He has no idea how he’s going to sleep tonight, knowing it’ll be the last time… but at least Vitya should help.

Speaking of, Vitya shows up a little late again. Phichit pointedly stares at Yuuri’s fidgeting, but doesn’t comment on it, probably thinking that they’re nerves about traveling—which is partially true.

But when he does appear, waltzing in from the edge of Yuuri’s vision like he typically does, he’s smiling like the cat that’s got the cream.

Yuuri doesn’t relax at the sight half as much as he wants to. He raises an eyebrow at Vitya but Vitya just shrugs. He doesn’t even tease or try to goad Yuuri on.

It’s…very strange.

At least until the doorbell rings and Vitya’s grin grows even wider.

Yuuri’s stomach plummets through his gut and shatters across the floor. Maybe Vitya got him more pizza. Or, well, the neighbors mis-ordered and accidentally sent them more pizza again. That’s it. That has to be it.

Phichit gets up and answers the door, and… “Yuuri? Uh, they need you.”

Yuuri’s blood turns to ice as he glances to Vitya, who’s still grinning wildly.

No. No, no, _no_.

Yuuri walks mechanically to the door, signing the device the delivery person has for him to sign—because the package is for Katsuki Yuuri. At his address. There’s no mistake, this time.

“Yuuri, do you know what…?” Phichit starts.

But Yuuri glances at the return address label and his heart nearly stops, his ears ringing. It’s not from Russia, it would be far too fast for that. But it’s even worse, if Yuuri’s guess is correct.

He turns and mutters something about opening it privately, taking the box from the person—_wow_, it weighs a ton—and hauling it to his room, Vitya right on his heels.

Vitya still hasn’t said a word to Yuuri, but he bounces around him as Yuuri shuts the door and approaches his bed. He doesn’t want to open this. He wants to go to bed, pass out, and wake up to start today over, without any of this. He just… he can’t…

But now that it’s in front of him, he _has_ to.

Yuuri tugs at the tape, probably taking longer than necessary to open it, but he refuses to bring a knife near something like this. Vitya just gets more and more antsy and Yuuri’s hands fumble and stumble as he opens up the package and—

Yuuri’s first thought is that Vitya should have waited. This is such a heavy package, and it will cost to ship it to Hasetsu.

Which is the most _ridiculous thought_ because _that isn’t the issue here_.

The issue is the fact that right in front of him is the medicine that he fought so hard and failed to earn enough for at the Grand Prix Final. And not just the medicine to _manage_ Vicchan’s symptoms of slowly losing his magic, no. Without even reading the label on the giant, glass container, Yuuri recognizes the pale, blue glowing crystalline tablets within.

This would cure his disease.

He can keep Vicchan with this.

But he doesn’t _deserve_ to.

“W-why?” Yuuri squeaks out, shutting the package and looking up at Vitya—

No, _Victor_.

Victor fucking Nikiforov.

Whose smile is strained as he says, “I thought you said yesterday that we could do things so long as we didn’t ask? And besides, you _need_ this for your dragon, don’t you? If it were my Makka, I… I can’t even imagine.”

Yuuri’s vision blurs and he blinks, hot tears running down his face. “But I… I shouldn’t take care of a creature that I can’t support or afford. He could get sick again complications happen all the time, and… This is—I don’t _want_ your pity. I’ve had _enough_ pity!”

Vitya stiffens, but that’s about all Yuuri can make out past his tear-distorted vision. “It’s not pity, Yuuri—”

“Don’t lie to me, please.” Yuuri shakes his head. “I know if you really are—_fuck_. I know… I know you really are Victor Nikiforov, and I know what he—you thinks of me.”

“But I… you said you trusted me?” Vitya’s—_Victor’s_ voice has a slight tremble to it.

Can Yuuri trust him? If he’s Victor and not Vitya? With Vitya he existed inside the bubble of Yuuri’s life, but Victor? Victor Nikiforov may be nice to his fans, but he never, ever knew or respected or wanted to get to know Yuuri. And that was back when when Yuuri tried to be something decent. And the disappointing piece of trash that Yuuri is now? Victor’s seen Yuuri at his absolute _worst_. Victor saw Yuuri the most overweight he’s ever been, he saw Yuuri sit on the couch and play video games all day, he’s seen Yuuri _fail_ in _person_, multiple times.

No, Yuuri can’t trust himself with someone like Victor Nikiforov, not when he can’t stand to drag down his idol, even if his idol cares enough to look at him like a pity case.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, Yuuri!” Vitya tries to take a step closer. “It just means that you can save Vicchan.”

“I won’t use it,” Yuuri snaps, even as it shatters him. He should use it, he _has to_ because Vicchan is suffering and there’s no other option—but he _can’t think about that right now_. “I _told_ you, he’ll probably get sick again with something else, and h-he’s better off with someone who _can_ take care of him. I d-don’t deserve Vicchan, not after I failed him and _everyone_ so awfully and y-you—” a sob tears out of his throat. “It’s _over_. I screwed up, I lost _everything_, and there’s no way I can take back the past five years and _not_ waste everyone’s time.”

“But _Yuuri_, you never wasted—”

“You don’t know me!” Yuuri snaps, shoving the package aside and standing up. “Y-You never did, and I… I don’t want you here anymore. I don’t want this.”

“Y-Yuuri, please, just listen—”

“_You_ listen!” Yuuri balls his hands into fists. “Just _go!_”

And then Yuuri blinks and—

And Vitya’s gone.

Yuuri collapses to the floor, a sob ripping through him and tearing him in two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy, don’t murder me pls? :’D I swear that there's a happy ending (I'm having Resplendent flashbacks, oh no) and I'll make it up to you guys, pinky promise.
> 
> (Also also, Vicchan will be fine. It would be a tag if anything bad happened to him and I'm a sucker for animals--Yuuri will stop spiraling about this.)
> 
> Thank you SO much as always to my darling brat beta [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for <strike>putting up with Yuuri's antics</strike> doing such an amazing job, and to my alphas who are the only reason I'm sane! And thank you so, SO much to everyone who reads, and especially those who comment because you're the driving force that keeps me writing this crazy story <3
> 
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	8. Eight

Everything _hurts_.

It hurts that Yuuri should have been the one to be able to get Vicchan his treatment, and he didn’t—he couldn’t.

It hurts that Vitya wasted so much time and effort on a failure like Yuuri.

It hurts that Vitya’s _gone._

And all of it’s Yuuri’s fault. It all comes back to Yuuri. He screws up everything he touches and it’s only a matter of time before he scares all of his soulmates away. He’s already failed Vicchan and had to make peace with the fact that he’s leaving, and he knows he’s disappointed his family. And Vitya—

_Victor_.

Another sob tears out of Yuuri’s throat.

After everything, he can’t… he just _can’t_. He’s already let down everyone else, he just _can’t_ deal with letting down Vitya, too.

Yuuri doesn’t deserve any of them. He just. He _can’t_. He can’t, he can’t, _he can’t_—

The door to Yuuri’s bedroom slams open, nearly scaring Yuuri out of his skin.

“Yuuri, what’s—?” Phichit stands in the doorway, his eyes slowly widening. “Holy _shit_, is that—?”

“Don’t!” Yuuri scrambles to his feet, closing the package and considering if he can open up his half-stuck window enough to toss the package out of it just so he doesn’t have to _think_ about it. “It _is_, but I’m… I can’t keep it. It has to go.”

“You _what_?” Phichit races over, slapping his hands on top of the box and keeping Yuuri from chucking out the window. “Yuuri, that’s ridiculous. I can’t imagine how you finally earned enough money to do this, but you can’t just _toss_ it. Vicchan being sick has been eating you alive! You can fix that, now!”

“I didn’t… I’m not the one who bought it,” Yuuri chokes out. “I didn’t earn it, I shouldn’t…”

“Wait, did you _steal_—never mind, that’s not important right now.” Phichit shakes his head. “You don’t have to say goodbye to Vicchan anymore if you have this!”

“Yeah, for _now_,” Yuuri grits out, fingers pressing hard into the cardboard. “But what happens next time that Vicchan gets sick like this? The vet said more problems follow this disease—what if I can’t do anything then, either?”

“Then you can just… do whatever you did to get it this time?” Phichit’s voice rises, an awkward smile spreading across his face. “Did you finally take advantage of those pole dancing lessons? Because that’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know, you’re _super_ good at it.”

Yuuri half-laughs and half-sobs. “No. It isn’t pole dancing. That would’ve been better than…”

“What? Drug dealing? Are you an assassin now? I’m sorry Yuuri, you’re a badass on the ice, but I don’t think that killing people is really a good job for someone of your temperament.”

“What?” Yuuri pulls away from the box and Phichit. “No, it’s nothing _illegal_.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like it is.” Phichit arches an eyebrow. “If you aren’t committing crimes, why are you look guilty about this? It isn’t even prescription stuff, right? It’s just expensive.”

“It’s… yeah. It’s just… nothing.” Yuuri brings his knees up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. None of it matters because Yuuri will be gone in a day, and Phichit won’t have to put up with him anymore.

“It’s not nothing,” Phichit prods, voice quiet.

“It’s _nothing.”_

There’s a moment of silence before Phichit speaks up again. “You can’t say it’s nothing when you haven’t looked like _this_ since…” Phichit pauses, and Yuuri’s literate enough in his best friend to guess he means since Sochi—though he would never say it. “Since finals.”

“Nothing happened,” Yuuri whispers, like saying it is enough to make that his truth.

“You don’t have to tell me, but that doesn’t mean you have to lie, Yuuri.”

Yuuri winces. He’s been lying for a long time, hasn’t he? To Vitya, and Phichit—and himself. He knew. He absolutely knew, but he just… he didn’t want it. He _couldn’t_ want it. So he convinced himself it wasn’t true, and it ended with Vitya wasting so much time and effort and money on Yuuri when Yuuri should have shut it down a long time ago. But he’s selfish, and he _knows_ he’s selfish, and he shouldn’t have let it get away from him, he just… he liked it.

But it’s time to end that. No more being selfish. No more worrying Phichit—though the truth might worry him more.

“You’re going to tell me I’m stupid,” Yuuri mutters.

“Well, that depends on if you _are_ being stupid.” Phichit grins. “But I won’t tease you too much, I swear.”

Yuuri opens his eyes enough to squint at Phichit, sniffling and trying to stop the tears from falling.

Phichit just shrugs and reaches out to place one of his hands over Yuuri’s.

“Um, well…” Where to even start? “I don’t even know how to explain anything.”

“I mean, you could just tell me the facts? Then tell the story?” Phichit offers. “Like… where did the ice crystals come from?”

“Oh. The address is on the label.”

“_Yuuri_.” Phichit sighs. “That’s not what I mean.”

Yuuri winces. Of all the questions Phichit could think to start with… Then again, that’s the most unbelievable part, isn’t it? Might as well rip the bandaid off. “Victor Nikiforov sent that package to me.”

It’s quiet for a while as the words hang heavy in the air, and Yuuri doesn’t even dare to look at Phichit.

“Are you telling me,” Phichit starts slowly, “that after years and years of you admiring him, _Victor Nikiforov_ became your sugar daddy?”

“Phichit!” Yuuri squeaks. “_No, _that is _not_ what I’m telling you!”

“No, but it got you to look at me.” Phichit grins, triumphant. “Okay then. After snubbing you at the Final, Victor Nikiforov just decides to… what, send you this to make up for being an ass?”

“Um, no.” Ugh, okay, maybe the fact that Victor was involved isn’t the _most_ unbelievable part. “Do you remember that night when you brought me to Walmart, and after that my sleeping got better?”

“Yeah, the night you started acting _really_ weird.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest that, but, honestly? He deserves it. “Well, um. That’s when Victor Nikiforov started visiting me when he sleeps. But only I can see him? I didn’t think he was real, I—”

“Hold on.” Phichit raises his hand. “Wait a second. Are you telling me that Victor Nikiforov saw me buy doughnut bacon cheeseburgers? While in the nude?”

Yuuri gapes. “How did you know he was _naked_?”

“You’re the one who told me you read in an interview once that he goes to sleep naked!” Phichit points a finger at him.

Oh. Yeah. Yuuri likes to bring that up while he’s drunk, sober Yuuri very purposely avoids it for a _lot_ of reasons.

“Oh my _god_, Victor Nikiforov was a Walmart cryptid right in front of my eyes and I _missed it_.” Phichit stares at a wall, eyes empty and hollow.

“I… I guess he was? But that’s not the point!” God, this was _not_ how he expected this conversation to go. Yuuri puts his face in his hands, groaning.

“I’m sorry, I know this is serious, Yuuri.” Phichit moves his hand up from Yuuri’s hand to his shoulder, giving a little squeeze. “Is, uh. Is Victor here now?”

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “I… I don’t know what happened? But I think I might have… sent him away.”

“You _what_?” Phichit squeaks.

Yuuri looks away, biting his lip.

“He… he buys you this and you sent him away? Did he… _expect_ something in exchange for his gift? Because if so, I’m flying out to Russia right now to kick his ass in person.”

“No! No, he didn’t… he didn’t ask for anything. I think… he might have done it as a… a message back?” Yuuri shakes his head. “I dunno.”

“‘A message _back._’” Phichit parrots. “Meaning… you sent him a message first?”

“Yeah, he didn’t know if I was real. If this is real. He only comes here while he’s asleep, so he had no evidence anything was actually happening, and I thought that I’d try to prove it to him…”

“Oh, the weird Instagram post!” Phichit claps his hands together. “That’s what that was about!”

“It wasn’t that weird.” Yuuri huffs.

“Yeah, it was.” Phichit huffs. “But compared to you muttering to yourself constantly, and things randomly falling when I look at them, and your weird mood swings, well. The weird Instagram post with the creepy ‘lyric’ was mild. Mari even texted me about that, you know.”

Yuuri groans and hides his face in his hands. Of course Mari’s involved in this now.

“So… to sum up.” Phichit brings up a hand to start counting off. “Victor Nikiforov is astral projecting into your life as your soulmate, not regular magic—he’d be in a different class of skating if he was a witch with that much power. He also sent you the medicine you’ve desperately needed for Vicchan. Somehow him being around knocked you into a more sensible routine, again? You were getting there, but the Walmart trip was the turning point, for sure. And, just now, you sent him away after… all of that?”

Yuuri tucks his face between his knees, his cheeks heating. “I guess that sums it up. Kinda.”

“Then… why are you so upset?” Phichit’s hand moves back to Yuuri’s shoulder where he begins to trace small circles against his shirt, and Yuuri leans into the touch, desperate for the contact.

“Before this, I was able to just… think he wasn’t real.”

“_Yuuri_.”

“I know! I know, okay? It’s just… when I was little I used to see him,” Yuuri admits in a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut. “And it was weird, it was different from how other soulmates exist—and I know each one is individual, I know. But I just… Victor Nikiforov? A soulmate of _mine_? And he came back to me right after I’d had the biggest failure of my life, so what kind of a sign is _that?_ I never proved to him I was worth anything. In fact, all he’s had to do this entire time is scrape me off the ground. How could he have been unlucky enough to be _my_ soulmate? And I couldn’t… When he was an imaginary friend, it was okay. But now… it’s _not_.”

“_I’m_ lucky enough to be your soulmate. You’re my best friend, the buddy of my being, if you will.” Phichit gently ruffles Yuuri’s hair. “And I think anyone would be lucky to be your soulmate.”

A whimper escapes from Yuuri’s mouth. He loves Phichit. He loves him _so much_, and he’s so thankful that he’s his soulmate. It’s just… “I don’t want to be the loser that Victor Nikiforov’s stuck with. I want to be his _equal_, and I’m _not_. He’s changed the shape of the figure skating world, and what have I done? Earned new world records for how many times a figure skater’s fallen in their professional career? He’s _already_ having to make up for me failing, and I… I _can’t…_”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Phichit comes in for a hug then, and Yuuri finally unwinds, grasping at Phichit like a lifeline. “If you weren’t enough, Victor probably wouldn’t have wanted to help you, you know.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “That’s not the _point_. I-I’ve let everyone down, I can’t let _him_ down too.”

Phichit just holds him a little tighter as Yuuri’s frame shakes, letting Yuuri get it _out_, and just the thought of that makes Yuuri sob harder. He’s done absolutely nothing to deserve this. He’s wasted Victor’s time, he’s made his family and Phichit worry, and all for what?

“Is he gonna come back, do you think?” Phichit asks quietly. “I don’t wanna worry you, but maybe we can… I dunno, burn some sage? That’s what Americans do to get rid of even spirits, right? Or I can call up my moms, they’re into all sorts of stuff, and you don’t want to mess with Thai women.”

Yuuri laughs, breath catching a little on the teary goop in his throat. “Are you saying that Vitya—Victor’s an evil spirit?”

Phichit raises his eyebrows at the slip-up of names, but he only says, “Well if he doesn’t give you space, hell yeah he is! I’ll banish his ass to the next realm if I have to.”

“He didn’t _mean_ to come here in the first place.” Yuuri’s brow furrows. “I don’t think. I don’t know? But I told him to leave….” Yuuri swallows. “Was that the right thing to do? It’s not _his_ fault he’s stuck with me—”

Phichit bops him gently on the top of the head. “It’s _no one’s_ fault that he’s stuck with you, soulmate or not! Didn’t you say that your parents got married years before their soulmate marks appeared? And that Mari has a soulmate that she meets up with once a year, tops? If Victor wanted nothing to do with you, he could’ve gone and explored Detroit every night or something.” Phichit gasps. “He could’ve become a vigilante! Like invisible Batman!”

“Phichit,” Yuuri groans.

“Right, sorry. What I’m saying is that you may not want to hear it, but Victor—who is your _soulmate_ and that’s super cool—chose to hang out with you. He _chose_ to send you this package.”

A few tears leak from Yuuri’s eyes and he presses his face into Phichit’s already-soaked shirt. “B-but _I_ was supposed to save Vicchan. I didn’t…”

“We’re just going in circles now, aren’t we?” Phichit pets Yuuri’s head. “And remember what the counselor said about that?”

Yuuri huffs. “Don’t do it.”

“Well, yeah, don’t do it, but—“ Phichit sighs. “How about we get up and we pull out one of the video games at the top of your boxes, then we can drop most of them off to post to Hasetsu, and then we eat garbage until we pass out?”

But what if Vitya comes back? What is Yuuri going to do about the damn box? What if Vitya _hates_ him, now? How can anything be okay?

But… but Phichit’s right. There aren’t any answers in this room, nothing other than his circling thoughts and the shattering ache in his chest.

Yuuri nods, and manages to spread a small smile across his face, even if he doesn’t feel it.

###

Yuuri doesn’t sleep.

Vitya doesn’t show up.

And Yuuri doesn’t know whether he’s more relieved or terrified about that. What if he never sees Vitya again?

But… isn’t that the best thing that _could_ happen, after all of this?

Predictably, after they drop off most of Yuuri’s packages, Phichit binge eats their snacks and take-out food until he passes out and pins Yuuri down to the couch. It’s nice, to not be alone with these thoughts, but… it’s not what he’s used to having, lately. Though he _should_ be spending his last night in Detroit with Phichit, anyway. Yeah, Victor’s influenced his entire career, but Phichit’s been the one supporting him here in the US for years now.

It eats away at Yuuri how much of his thoughts are still eaten up by Victor, despite that.

He can’t stop thinking about how he’s going to miss the weird home he’s built here, or the people, or even the place—those definitely dig into his mind with sharp claws that almost threaten him into saying he’s not going, that he’s going to stay.

But at the same time… Yuuri might have scorned _the_ Victor Nikiforov. Yeah, maybe Yuuri has some distant dream to skate again, but unless he apologizes, he doesn’t know if maybe Victor would make his life living hell—Victor’s _seen_ Yuuri’s posters, he knows Yuuri’s weaknesses.

He knows that Vitya would never do anything like that, but there’s still this gap in his brain, this divide between Victor Nikiforov and his Vitya and he’s not sure what lurks in that darkness. He’s not sure if Victor wants him around, if he wants to hear from him, if he’s up for any sort of apology.

And can he even apologize if he wants to? Victor hasn’t come back. He’s never left Yuuri like this before—except when he stopped showing up when they were little, and it took him around _fifteen years_ to show up in Yuuri’s life again. And if that happens again…

Before he knows it, Yuuri’s phone starts shrieking its alarm, saying it’s time to get up and get ready to go to the airport.

This is it.

It’s really happening.

Yuuri manages to wake Phichit and they go about their morning routine quietly, even Phichit’s usual pep more muffled than usual. Time seems to race by, seconds become minutes, and minutes hours, until they’re _leaving_. As a last-minute decision—but really inevitable, if he thinks about it—Yuuri brings Vitya’s box with him. He can’t throw it away. He just… he still wishes he didn’t even have to think about it.

Phichit gives him a small smile, and, for the last time, Yuuri locks the apartment door behind them.

“Did you decide what you’ll do with the apartment?” Yuuri asks once they’re in the car, and he’s taking the key off of his keychain—he’d never thought about having to give it back before right here, right now. If feels too light without it. Which is ridiculous for a teeny scrap of metal, but it’s still true.”

“Oh,” Phichit shifts in his seat, not making eye contact with Yuuri. “I did, actually. Uh… I’m going home with Celestino. To Thailand. They’re connected with a school there and are letting me continue my studies.”

Yuuri grins—Phichit’s wanted to go home for _years_—and then a rock plummets into his stomach.

It always felt like that, when Yuuri leaves Detroit, everything would keep going just as it was. Phichit will stay, Celestino will coach, and maybe Phichit would get a new roommate, but if Skate America’s ever close enough, he could come and crash here again.

But it won’t exist after Yuuri leaves. This isn’t like Hasetsu. He’s lost Vitya, and he’s lost his place here with Phichit.

“That’s amazing, Phichit.” Yuuri finally manages to get out, because this isn’t about _him_. “You finally can train on home turf!”

“You should totally visit me, when you can.” Phichit grins. “You’d love it. I’m sorry about the apartment, though—”

“Don’t.” Yuuri shakes his head, and even if it hurts to never be able to come back to this home, he means it. “You deserve the world, Phichit. Besides, it’ll be an easier time zone difference to corner me into FaceTiming, right?”

Phichit’s grin gains an edge. “Oh, you _know_ I’ve already thought about that.”

Something eases between them, after that. There’s no dirty laundry left hanging, no secrets. Phichit doesn’t bring up Victor, and Yuuri doesn’t bring up Phichit’s departure. Not until they're standing in the airport, staring down security.

“If I’d known, I would’ve helped you pack, you know.” Yuuri takes Phichit’s hand, clutching it tight.

Phichit waves his free hand. “It’s fine, I’m heading home after Worlds. Not to mention, I’m not as much of a mess as you can be.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true!”

An honest smile spreads across Yuuri’s lips. “I’m gonna miss you. A _lot_.”

Phichit drags him into a bone-crushing hug that Yuuri returns, his voice shaky as he says, “I’m gonna miss you too.”

They stand like that for a little bit, blocking the traffic of the airport without a care in the world. Yuuri doesn’t know how he’s going to do without this. How he’s going to fall into the natural rhythm of Hasetsu when he hasn’t been there in _years_.

Phichit pulls back, leveling Yuuri with a firm look, even if his eyes are a little red. “This isn’t the end, though! We’re soulmates for a reason, and even if you really do stick with quitting skating—and I’ve _seen_ how you’ve been skating Victor’s routine—we’re going to hang out. I won’t let you avoid me. And I’m going to help you figure out this Victor mess. Okay?”

Yuuri sniffs, trying as hard as he can to not let the tears fall because that’ll be the end for both of them. “Okay.”

“Then go! Or you’re gonna miss your flight—we were already late to begin with.” Phichit gives a shaky smile.

Yuuri could admit that he kind of wants to miss his flight. He could admit that he’s not ready for any of this. He could turn around and never enter an airport again in his life.

But… it’s time he goes back to Japan. And he knows it.

So with one last smile at Phichit, Yuuri turns, and he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phichit is the BEST of friends, and you can FIGHT ME if you disagree. But also I sWEAR THINGS WILL WORK OUT (and Vicchan will be fine and happy, Yuuri's just an overwhelmed butthole)
> 
> Also also, I’m so sorry if anyone noticed me post this chapter early yesterday. :’D I went to go and change a comma and apparently I hit the wrong button! I was way too overwhelmed between NaNoWriMo (I’m writing chapter 26 of Jello, now!), and some serious depression and writing anxiety to deal with having posted it yet, but! It’s live again, about twelve hours later. :’DDD
> 
> Thank you so, SO much to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for making these chapters readable, and my lovely alphas for telling me that my mind is just being cruel and I should keep going <3 And thank you guys for all of your encouragement, and sticking with these ridiculous boys!!!
> 
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	9. Nine

Yuuri’s the sort of person who typically sleeps on planes, but if anything, he sleeps less than he did all of last night on his flight. He tries watching the movie they have on and listening to music, he even tries reading something on his phone—but his mind keeps racing, and his stomach churns.

He’s going back to Japan.

He’s not even sure if he should call it home or not, after having been gone for so long. It almost doesn’t feel right.

Ever since he’s been gone he’s been able to hide himself away in studying and skating and not have to think about what he left behind. It was his way of dealing with the homesickness—or, not dealing with it. When he talks to his family on the phone, Yuuri can escape when things make him uncomfortable, when they come too close to his shortcomings.

In person? He’s not that lucky.

And it doesn’t help that every time that Yuuri starts to relax, he _swears_ he sees a flash of silver or blue or a heart-shaped grin out of the corner of his eye. Yuuri’s way too tired to try and do some time conversions to guess if Victor could be asleep right now, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, it’s another day without Vitya showing up, and the guilt’s already eating him alive.

He knows better than to completely dismiss what he’s seeing as his imagination, but if it _is_ real, what does it mean? And, honestly, what _is_ it?

Eventually, Yuuri starts drifting in and out of sleep—but his dreams are even worse than reality. There’s darkness and a deep, mind-numbing fear, but that’s all that Yuuri can distinctly remember. Otherwise it’s flashes of teeth, and just like in reality, Yuuri’s almost sure he’s seeing pieces of Vitya, but… he’s not _sure_.

By the time that he’s finally reached his destination and gotten on the train he needs to take back to his hometown, Yuuri feels like a strong breeze could blow him over. It’s something he’s done before; when he was younger and started doing international competitions, he made this trip a _lot_ with Minako and sometimes Mari.

But it feels… different. The train’s aisle is the same, and some of the interior seems familiar, but the upholstery on the seats is different. And then he gets to Hasetsu station. It’s on _raised tracks_. That definitely didn’t exist last time he was here. It hits him with so much nostalgia yet newness that Yuuri starts to get dizzy.

Or… maybe he’s on the edge of passing out because of the station being absolutely _smothered_ in posters of himself. Yuuri gapes at them for a long moment before the panic sets in and he starts to calculate if he could tear them all down without getting in trouble. It _is_ his face, after all, if anyone could get away with it…

“Yuuri! Why are you skulking around?”

Yuuri swivels around, and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus on the familiar figure and an even more familiar voice. “M-Minako?”

She somehow looks _exactly_ the same as when Yuuri left. Maybe her hair’s a little longer, but otherwise she looks like she hasn’t aged a day—and Yuuri knows magic doesn’t preserve skin _that_ well. Maybe vampirism isn’t actually a myth? Either way, it’s strangely comforting to have _something_ be the same, despite it also being a little creepy.

And then… she pulls out a banner plastered with his name on it in big, pink letters, and the only thing that would make Yuuri happy was if the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.

“Welcome back after five, long years!” Minako beams at him, full of pride and excitement and everything that Yuuri just _can’t_ wrap his head around right now.

“Wh-why are you here?” Yuuri finally manages to get out, clutching tightly at the one suitcase he’d brought onto the plane.

“Stand up straight, will you?” She shouts at him, completely ignoring his words.

He doesn’t even know why he _questioned_ Minako being here, in retrospect. Of course she’s here. On top of being best friends with Yuuri’s mother, she’s almost as obsessed with figure skating as Yuuri is; she’s the one who started him on this path, after all.

How is she not the most disappointed out of everyone, then?

There are a few people in the station, and it doesn’t take long for them to start pointing and talking about him like he isn’t there. Like he’s worth being recognized, like they have any reason to have his posters up on the walls of public spaces.

And Yuuri, he’s just… he’s _so_ tired. He wants to go _home_.

But where is that, exactly?

It’s a bit of a production to get out of the station. Yuuri just wants to crawl off and hide, but Minako makes him greet people, like he even _has_ an adoring fanbase after his performance at the Final and Nationals. She almost drags him off to see the rest of the town, but Yuuri manages to put his foot down and Minako finally takes some pity on him and drives him home.

And the trek back is even _worse _than the station. Minako knows how to talk around Yuuri’s quiet moments, but she still asks him questions, and half of them are no different than what she’s had to have already heard from the media. He doesn’t know if he’s retiring, he’s not sure how long he’s staying, he’s got no idea what his next move is. He doesn’t know _anything_. Between skating and coming home and Vitya, he feels like a shambling mess of a human being that might just rattle apart at any given opportunity.

By the time that Minako drags him into his family home—by the front door, weirdly—Yuuri’s gone from beyond exhausted to a quivering, anxious mess. He’d normally take comfort in the fact that the shaking’s so slight no one will notice it, but this is his family. It may have been years, but they know him too well.

Minako calls out to his family, and Hiroko sprints to come and see him—stopping just short of a hug in his overwhelmed state. He tries to let out some of the festering guilt and apologize to his mother, but of course she doesn’t hear any of it.

Things quickly devolve into chaos from there, until Hiroko suggests that he go to soak in the onsen.

Except Yuuri can’t yet. Not when one of his family members isn’t at the inn, and Yuuri owes him an apology, most of all.

His mom simply smiles and takes his bags from him. “Oh, that’s right! Go say hi to Vicchan. We’ll be here for you when you get back.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Yuuri manages before he’s slipping out the door again and practically running from the house.

It isn’t that Yuuri doesn’t feel the exhaustion as he jogs from the onsen to the Ice Castle. But the jitteriness in him eases as he moves, even if his legs have a strange, heavy, aching numbness to them.

Just like at the train station, Hasetsu is both nothing like what it was and entirely the same as it was before. The ramen place is still there, and he even recognizes the owner—though he ducks his head before the guy can do the same. The convenience store he used to stop at with Takeshi and Yuuko as kids have changed, though; it’s a bigger place with a new name. Yuuri wonders if he knows anyone that works there. He wonders if they’d remember him.

Most of his run passes in a blur of exhaustion and familiarity and shock—and then he’s standing outside of the doors to the ice rink.

This place has _always _looked the same. But as he walks in, it’s easy to tell that the flooring is new, and of course the posters he can see hanging around have changed and…

Yuuri shakes himself out of it. That’s not why he’s here.

“Excuse me,” Yuuri says as he walks into the lobby, the words practically second nature as he pushes through the door—the familiar smell of _cold_ and generic cleaning supplies and the faded tang of the exertion of hundreds of bodies throughout the years.

“Our regular hours are over,” a voice says blandly behind the counter—that is until the woman looks over at Yuuri and her eyes widen.

“It’s been a while, Yuuko,” Yuuri tries to get the words out as casually as he can, a small grin on his face despite himself.

“Yuuri?” Yuuko pauses, giving Yuuri a second to awkwardly nod and confirm that, yes, that’s his name. “Oh, come on! Call me Yuu-chan!”

“S-sorry.” Yuuri fidgets, and… and it’s too good to be true. Yuuko shouldn’t be so kind and familiar with him after he personally shattered their childhood dreams. His already heavy limbs are even more leadened by the guilt that he feels, and he knows it’ll eat him alive later, but…

It really is nice to see Yuuko again.

She was his first crush, years ago, but since then she’s become so, so much more. Even after having the triplets and getting married, she’s been a rock for Yuuri, and she’s one of the few people from home that he texts semi-regularly. She’s almost as persistent as Phichit, in her own way. In fact, her good luck texts before his competitions are some of his favorite things—even when he’s too ashamed to text back.

Yuuri really doesn’t deserve the people in his life.

“Oh, you came to see Vicchan, right?” Yuuko perks up, smile growing. “Go ahead. He’s sleeping in the rink.”

“Huh?” Yuuri blinks. “I can?” Considering the disgrace he is, coupled with the fact that _he’s_ the reason they’re getting ready to send Vicchan to a new home, well…

“You just want to be with him alone for now, right? I’ll protect you.” She gives him a conspiratorial wink.

A soft smile spreads across Yuuri’s lips, even as his chest aches. “Thanks.”

“Of course! Now go on!” She shoos him toward the locker rooms, and he heads in laughing, but once inside… he pauses.

He’s been in this room so, so many times. It might as well have been what he considered “home,” for all the time he spent changing, and cleaning off and taking care of his minor injuries in here. And always, always there was Yuuko at the rink.

When they were small she was an _amazing_ skater. They called her the Madonna of The Ice Castle—and really, she still is. He knows she can still skate well, even with her triplets scurrying around and keeping her on her toes. She deserves the world, and something in Yuuri’s chest warms to see her so happy—even though he wishes _he_ could do more. He can’t even skate right now, since Vicchan can only keep the ice frozen for so long…

In fact, Yuuko helped him out when he found Vicchan. After Victor adopted Makkachin to expand his own home rink, Yuuri started hunting around for his own dragon, so he could skate any time he wanted to; Ice Castle’s old dragon could barely keep the ice solid more often than Vicchan can now. Definitely not long enough to train professionally on. Everyone had softly laughed at little Yuuri’s antics—ice dragons weren’t wild in these parts. The most he’d be likely to find was a little air serpent. He almost went to go beg the mermaids for help, but luckily Mari caught him before he made that mistake. Mermaids leave humans alone if you leave them alone—at least ever since the treatment to resist a siren call became a mandated vaccination in Japan—but to go right up to one, a predator that used to terrorize sailors for fun… it wouldn’t have been smart.

So Yuuri went back to scouring the edges of Hasetsu… until he found a drakling abandoned on the side of a rural road. The young dragon was already the same size as him, but he managed to haul it halfway toward his house before Yuuko found him and helped him carry the drakling the rest of the way home.

His parents were… surprised, to say the least. Smaller dragons are often kept as pets, but a full-sized baby ice dragon? Humans have always been cruel to animals and finding the creature the way Yuuri had made what it went through rather obvious—the scars across his grey-brown furry hide still exist to this day. They tried to convince Yuuri that it might not be a good idea to keep a creature of that size and that amount of responsibility—until Mari pointed out the soulmate marks on them both.

Then the only thing to do was take the dragon—henceforth known as Vicchan, short for Victor—to the vet. In order to afford him, Yuuri trained him to take over as the Ice Castle’s dragon so he’d be useful, and the rink would help cover the costs. Or, well he _tried_ to. But Yuuko actually knew what to do, and helped Yuuri get there. Takeshi reluctantly tagged along to help, and that’s probably about when they became friends.

Vicchan took over as Ice Castle’s ice dragon, and Yuuri got a set of keys to skate and visit Vicchan any time, and now…

Now that’s coming to an end. Unless…

Yuuri shakes his head, then takes a deep breath and opens the rink door.

It’s cool in here, far colder than outside even with the small cold snap Hasetsu’s in the middle of, but it isn’t as cold as Yuuri’s used to when walking into an ice rink. It’s… odd. A little humid and musty from the recently melted ice. But…

But off to the side, there’s a familiar, man-made cave with a long silver-brown snout sticking out from it.

Yuuri takes a long moment reminding himself to just _breathe_. There was a period around the Grand Prix Final where they weren’t even sure that Vicchan was going to make it—but he pulled through and he’s been stable ever since. Not completely better, of course. For that they need the right medicine, those expensive magic stabilization ice crystals, that Yuuri _has,_ and…

And he really needs to use it. Even if he can’t keep Vicchan it would end any suffering he’s going through. Yuuri’s never understood it, but the doctor said something about the magic in him destabilizing, and it can sometimes make him achy and—

Vicchan’s snout begins to snuffle curiously, and Yuuri scrambles forward so that the dragon won’t get up and investigate when he doesn’t have that as much strength as he used to. Yuuri flies around the corner into Vicchan’s little off-rink cave—and freezes.

Vicchan is the same dragon that Yuuri remembers… except in the ways that he’s not. He’s still got that soft, triangular face, his horns stubby compared to Victor’s Makkachin—though she’s a girl, and that typically means they’ll be bigger, and have more horns—and his long, thick tail is wrapped protectively around him while he rests, like it’s always been. His short, grey-brown fur is the same, and so are the wings at his sides… but his fur’s a little thinner than it used to be, and his wings slump a little more than they ever did before.

And right then Yuuri _knows_.

He knows he’s screwed up.

He knows he has to use the medicine that Victor sent him.

He knows he loves Vicchan and—and maybe “love” isn’t the right word for how Yuuri feels about Vitya, but he cares about him. He’s cared about Vitya for as long as he can remember. And if he’s not lying to himself he knows that he’s cared about Vitya—_Victor_ even more ever since he came back into Yuuri’s life.

Maybe Vitya shouldn’t have sent him the package without talking to Yuuri—but maybe Yuuri shouldn’t have made that Instagram post without talking to him. Maybe they needed to actually _talk_ about everything. Yuuri’s kept Vitya at arm’s length while Vitya’s constantly reached out to take hold of Yuuri and…

And Yuuri doesn’t know how to fix this.

He doesn’t know how to fix _anything_.

Vicchan whines a little, large claws scraping as he shifts forward enough to shove his face into Yuuri’s chest, knocking the air out of him a little. Vicchan’s close to the size of a mechanical Zamboni, if a little smaller and a lot more intelligent than one. There was a Zamboni in Detroit, and the ice just lacked that level of care and the touch of magic that having a dragon around brings. It made Yuuri ache all the more when he first left Hasetsu, craving the comforts of his family home and favorite rink.

Yuuri steps forward, wrapping his arms around Vicchan’s neck and squeezing as tight as he dares, his eyes burning with tears. “I missed you, Vicchan.”

Vicchan makes a sweet trilling sort of noise, so familiar and warm that it makes Yuuri _ache_, before wiggling free of Yuuri and wrapping his neck around Yuuri so he can nudge his human closer and closer until Yuuri stumbles and lowers himself as gently as he can against Vicchan’s side.

A low thrumming sounds in Vicchan’s chest as he wraps himself around Yuuri, tail and neck so tight against him that it’s borderline painful, but Yuuri doesn’t protest. He just clutches Vicchan as close as he can while the tears that had been threatening finally spill over and run down his cheeks, darkening Vicchan’s short fur.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri murmurs, voice rough. “I’m so, so sorry Vicchan. I messed up, and I—I can’t make things better right now, they’re too broken. But I’ll help you, okay? Even if you have to leave in the end, I’ll help you.”

Vicchan’s thrumming just grows a little deeper, and he gives Yuuri a stern chirp, like he’s telling Yuuri not to blame himself—or more likely just telling him to be quiet and let him enjoy the fact that they’re back together again.

Because it’s been _so_ long. Too long.

Yuuri reaches out and brushes the mark behind Vicchan’s short, stubby little ear. What comes next for Yuuri—and for Vicchan—might be up in the air, on all sides, but everyone knows that you’re soulmates with someone for a _reason_. Meaning that, even if Yuuri could have done better by Vicchan, they still have each other.

And Yuuri knows he should just focus on Vicchan now, while he has him, he _knows, _but… he can’t help but wonder what being soulmates with Vitya means, and what will happen next because of it.

Wait, no. Not _Vitya_.

Victor.

His soulmate is, somehow, impossibly, Victor Nikiforov. Assuming that Yuuri hasn’t screwed up everything so badly that Victor doesn’t even want to _see _him again.

Yuuri leans a little farther into Vicchan, the warmth of his fur a comfort and a guilt all at once. Honestly, Yuuri doesn’t know if he can do all this.

But… he has to, doesn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* Time is a lie and canon’s not clear on its timeline, so bear with me here.
> 
> PROGRESS!!! Poor Yuuri moves in baby steps, but he's _trying_, and he'll get there. Can confirm: mental health _sucks._
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for making this mess readable, and bless my alpha readers for cheering me along!!! <3 And thank YOU guys for having faith in this story, even as I put you through the emotional wringer. X'D
> 
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	10. Ten

Yuuri stays with Vicchan in the ice rink—though maybe right now it’s technically just a _rink_ with no ice in it. It won’t be that forever, though. Vicchan will get the medicine, and then…

Yuuri can keep Vicchan.

He knows that he shouldn’t. He hasn’t earned the right to keep him, he doesn’t know if he can support him if he gets this sick again. But… _Vicchan_. What would the Ice Castle be without him? What would Hasetsu be without him? And Vicchan’s already been through so much, to have to leave his home…

“I don’t know what to do,” Yuuri murmurs against Vicchan’s fur, inhaling the sharp, clean animal musk of his coat. But that’s a lie. He knows what he wants to do, but he just… can he accept it? Is it right to do what he wants? He can’t… he _shouldn’t_ have that.

But a small voice that sounds eerily like Vitya’s in the back of his mind asks, _why not?_

The loud shuffle of footsteps—purposefully loud—snaps him from his thoughts and he sits up straighter. Well, as straight as Vicchan will let him.

“Yuuri.” Mari’s lips twitch up in an echo of a smile. “Welcome back.”

Yuuri takes just a moment to stare. He didn’t get to see her at the onsen and, somehow, Mari has changed the most out of everyone. It’s not that he didn’t get to see her new haircut and piercings when he FaceTimed her—when Yuuri was at his worst and most self-absorbed during training, Phichit got Mari’s number from him and started FaceTiming her and making sure Yuuri didn’t totally lose touch with his family. But there are fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that didn’t show up on the small screen. She holds herself a little different, her posture more casual than it was when he last saw her.

And yet… she still smells like the familiar, slightly acrid scent of her favorite cigarette brand. She still looks at him with fond but exasperated eyes. And just like when he was young, she’s here to get him when it’s time to go home.

“Mari… It’s been a while.” Yuuri manages a small grin back at her, despite the chaos of emotions fluttering around inside him. “Sorry to visit while things are busy.”

She tilts her head a little, considering. “Hey, how long are you staying in Hasetsu? Will you help out with the hot spring?”

“Huh?” Yuuri tenses a little. He’s just decided to give up the life he’s built for himself in America, he’s trying to decide what to do about Vicchan—and even if the Ice Castle is up and running again, how far can he go without coaching and choreography and the entire team of people he had behind him in Detroit? It’s… it’s too _much_. “Where’s this coming from?”

“You went to college, even though you had to study an extra year. What will you do now?” She doesn’t say it in a demanding way, not like she has any expectations of him. Just a big sister asking after her little brother—even if there’s a slight tell in how her fingers twitch for a cigarette. Yuuri may be more openly anxious, but Mari’s got her own silent worries, whatever they may be. “If you’re going to keep skating, I’ll support you, but…”

“I think… I need more time to think it over.” He _definitely_ needs more time to think it over. But after fighting for his impossible dreams year after year it feels like… defeat to take a break. To need time. In a different way than how he felt when he left Detroit.

“Hmm, okay.” She shifts on her feet—Mari’s always been like Yuuri, never one to sit still and unoccupied for long. “So your plans don’t involve Victor?”

Yuuri stiffens. “W-what? I mean, I wanted to skate on the same ice as Victor, you knew that, but… um…”

Mari gives a lazy sort of smile. “Phichit called me last night.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, and then shuts it into a scowl. He thought he could _trust_ Phichit with this. Phichit’s always been good about his secrets—no matter how dumb they were.

“Oh, don’t make that face.” Mari rolls her eyes. “He didn’t betray you. He hardly told me anything, actually. Just that the little imaginary friend you had _isn’t_ so imaginary, and you’re avoiding the situation.”

Then why did Phichit even say _anything_ to Mari? Yuuri lets out a sharp breath. “I knew it would be a mistake to introduce you two.”

“And yet, you did it anyway.” She takes a moment, fiddling with the cigarette box in her pocket. “He didn’t do it to hurt you. He’s just been worried about you. You haven’t exactly been kind to yourself lately, Yuuri.”

It’s not like he _deserves_ kindness. But Yuuri keeps his mouth shut on that comment.

“And he knows how you can get. He helped you after Sochi, but you wouldn’t have had anyone here that knew what had happened with your latest soulmate and could help out after… well, you know. All that.” She shrugs.

He winces. “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”

“Stubborn as ever.” She huffs out a small laugh. “No one can get through life alone, Yuuri. No matter how hard you try. Besides, I’m not here to make fun of you, okay, bro? Just… if you need to talk about it. Or you need me to punch Victor Nikiforov in the face. I’m here for you.”

A snort escapes Yuuri before he can stop it, thinking of Mari knocking out Victor—and he has _no doubt_ she would and could do it, too. “He… I don’t think he did anything wrong, you don’t need to punch anybody.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh? Well. Still, the offer’s on the table, all right?”

Yuuri holds Vicchan a little tighter, making the dragon’s happy thrumming pick up again, “All right.”

“C’mon then.” Mari gestures at him to get up. “It’s still a bit until dinner, but I figured that this way you’d have some time to go soak in the hot spring and relax.”

Yuuri wrinkles his nose. Now that he’s thinking about it, there’s the sticky grit of sweat and travel on his skin, and his body is achy in all the weirdest places from sitting for so long, and then jogging to the rink, and… everything is just gross. “Yeah. Okay.”

With one or two—well, maybe a lot—of hugs for Vicchan, Yuuri finally gets up and says goodbye to Vicchan and Yuuko. It’s strange, how it’s hard to say goodbye to them even though he knows he’ll be here to see them tomorrow.

After Yuuri’s done dragging his heels, they manage to leave the ice rink, and he and Mari chatter on the way back. It really is just like when he was younger; from when he was too young to go home from the rink alone, to later when Mari was sent to get him to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep in the locker room between studying and skating and dancing. They've walked this path together so many times. Even though the town around him is different and the same in an unsettling sort of way, at least _this_ is a comfort.

When they get back to the onsen, they take the side-entrance in, and avoid the crowd that Minako had tried to drag him through. Mari gestures vaguely at the onsen while she heads towards the kitchen to help their father cook for dinner service. Yuuri almost follows, but the death glare she sends him stops him dead in his tracks.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his insides at war between seething guilt and a soft little warmth. His family takes such good care of him, and he just…

Mari waves him off as she walks away. “Stop thinking about it, get going. The onsen will help clear your head a little.”

Yuuri nods, despite the fact that she can’t see it, and slips off to the bath.

It’s quiet, this evening. Then again, these days it’s more quiet than not here even in the busy season. Normally that would just be another addition to his worry list, but when he steps under the water to rinse off before entering the onsen, all the worries float away into the back of his mind. He takes his time, making sure he’s thoroughly clean after his trip, and then slips into the water with a long, happy sigh. He settles in and leans against the rock wall as he goes limp.

How he survived without this for so long, Yuuri has no idea. The scent of minerals and sulfur wraps around him in a comforting and familiar blanket, as heavy as the exhaustion that pulls at his eyelids. He knows that he can’t stay in for too long like this or he’ll fall asleep, but… he’s not ready to get out. Not yet. Not when it’s so nice after being crammed on a plane for _hours_, and before that, the harsh chill that Detroit still has in spring. Not that it’s anything compared to what Vitya must have in Russia, but—

_Vitya_.

Yuuri sits up, suddenly too awake, despite the fog of exhaustion clinging to his thoughts. It isn’t like he’s stopped thinking about him, but now that Vitya’s at the forefront of Yuuri’s mind, there’s no ignoring it anymore. Yuuri catches a glimpse of silver out of the corner of his eye and jumps, whirling around—but there’s nothing there. Of _course _there isn’t.

Vitya had been told to go and he _did_. He listens to Yuuri, if not very well at times, and he only broke Yuuri’s rules when Yuuri stepped over a line himself. It… It makes sense, in retrospect. Everything does.

Yuuri failing horribly and spectacularly at Sochi and then being snubbed by Victor somehow set him up to find his soulmate. Only Yuuri would have a soulmate present like that. It makes sense.

But… But it never bothered Victor. When Yuuri told him not to talk about Sochi, he stopped. Victor’s only been enthusiastic about being around Yuuri which makes _no sense_. Victor could do better just being awake and being with Makkachin.

That’s not what he did, though. Victor enthusiastically spent his time with Yuuri, despite Yuuri being in such a horrible headspace and Yuuri—

Yuuri just pushed him away.

He brings up his hands to cover his face, groaning. His brain is too slow and groggy to think about this, but he can’t stop. He knows that things are probably better like this, that Victor’s free to do whatever he wants now—who knows, maybe this is the extent of them being soulmates. Maybe this is all that fate has in store for them. They were meant to know each other as children, and then as adults, Yuuri just showed him how much he was _not_ worth Victor’s time. He should just drop it. Let Victor move on and continue skating record-breaking programs, and living his life as someone like Victor Nikiforov does.

Except Yuuri can’t let it drop. He— He needs to say he’s sorry. Even if Victor doesn’t want to forgive him. Even if he’s still a little angry about the fact that Victor sent him that package. But he has to use the medicine that Victor sent, he can’t let Vicchan suffer, and that means that he can’t just ignore Victor. Yuuri may be stubborn, but he would never take advantage of someone like that—not on purpose, anyway.

But what can he do? He doesn’t even remotely know how this whole soulmate presentation works. He’s apparently not visiting Victor at night, and he doesn’t know how to make Victor come back—he’s not even sure he’s ready to have Victor come _here_, to a home that Yuuri’s not even sure is still quite home anymore. He’s… he’s not sure he’s ready to hear what Victor has to say at all.

And what does that leave? If they can’t talk in person, and and Yuuri doesn’t have Victor’s number, he just… what? Is going to send Victor a DM on Instagram? That seems like not _nearly_ enough to give Victor an apology, and Yuuri’s already screwed up on that media platform once.

If only he could just… skate for Victor. It’s hard for him to be open about his emotions when he speaks, but on the ice? He’ll happily pluck out his emotions and lay them raw.

But on top of that being a bit of a sore subject considering the last time Victor saw him on the ice all Yuuri did was fall, and the only emotions he had in any of his performances were defeat and failure. And considering Victor said he’s seen _all_ of Yuuri’s programs, including the awful exhibitions, he might have seen Yuuri’s nationals, too. He’s made enough of an ass of himself in front of Victor. So, no, that’s not a choice…

Yuuri sighs, dropping his hands—and nearly jumping out of the water when he swears he sees a spark of blue at his eye level. But of course when he looks closer, nothing’s there/

And then there’s… whatever _this_ is. By Yuuri’s math, Victor should, theoretically, be awake and probably practicing for Worlds right now. It’s so, _so_ close. If only Yuuri hadn’t bombed Nationals, he could have gone, and it would’ve given him the perfect excuse to talk to him. To do… something. Anything.

But no, now he might be _actually_ hallucinating, and he’s got no way to properly contact his soulmate. He should really look up and see if his old therapist still lives in town—he slacked off his mental health in Detroit, especially these past few months, and… and it’s time to try and do better. He’s already destroyed enough, and maybe Victor’s fine after everything, but Yuuri still remembers the stricken look across Victor’s face just before he was _gone_, and Yuuri just… he needs to do something. He needs to make it better. Somehow. Even with Victor not being here.

How ironic that Yuuri had started to worry about losing Vitya when he came to Hasetsu, and he _did_. But it wasn’t Vitya’s fault.

It was Yuuri’s.

With a huff, Yuuri gets out of the pool. It’s not like he’s going to relax again, and inside should be busy enough to at least sort of distract him. He’s sure Minako’s probably still here and probably already drinking. She’s most likely chatting about Worlds to other patrons who couldn’t give a damn. And while Yuuri doesn’t exactly look forward to getting cornered into talking about skating, of all things, at least it’s not sitting out here with his own thoughts.

He can’t think of a solution when he’s this tired. He’ll eat and he’ll rest and… something. He’ll do something.

Shivering, Yuuri wraps a towel around himself. It’s ridiculously cold for the time of year. He was hoping to maybe head out and look at the cherry blossoms tomorrow or the next day, but if it’s too cold…

Wait. He squints, walking forward a bit as something small and whiteish floats to the ground. They don’t have sakura trees back here, they’re a pain to clean from the onsen, but this looks like a petal. Yuuri holds out his hand, catches it—and it melts.

_Oh_.

It’s snow.

Yuuri glances up at the sky, wrapping the towel around himself and shivering as the thick flakes continue to fall.

This… _definitely_ shouldn’t happen this time of year. Not this thick, or this fast. If Yuuri was in Detroit, he’d expect it. He wouldn’t be surprised if Russia had snow. But here?

He frowns. It can’t be related to _him_, can it? No. It makes no sense. Victor and Yuuri are connected, obviously, but them having… issues isn’t enough to shift the natural magic around them. That’s like some crap from a romance novel. It can’t…

Except Yuuri’s said “can’t” too often about things that _can_ to fully dismiss the thought.

Either way, it _doesn’t matter_. Yuuri has to do, well, _something_, and it’s not going to get done tonight and… he just _can’t _right now. With his teeth chattering, Yuuri jogs inside and shuts the door on his thoughts, and his problems, and the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri heckled up the YoI timeline and now he’s paying for it with Snow. This chapter's a tiny bit shorter than the others, but I promise I'll make up for it with what comes next chapter ;)
> 
> Also! Baph asked me what a cryptid was, after the conversation with Phichit, and the description I gave happened to list Nessie anD [LOOK WHAT BAPH MADE, I'M DYING, IT'S FABULOUS!!!!!!!!!!](https://twitter.com/boredBaph/status/1193555186758946816)
> 
> Bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for making time to edit this disaster on wheels, and also bless [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being my alpha reader ROCK while I suffer and perish with NaNoWriMo. And thank you all so, so much for continuing to read these boys being ridiculous!!! Your comments make my entire week, even if I'm a little slower in replying in my NaNo-related death. <3
> 
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	11. Eleven

It’s cold. So horribly, bitingly cold. Yuuri can barely feel his face, and his toes and fingers are completely numb—if he even has them anymore. He can’t see enough to know if he has them. All he knows is that it’s dark and that there’s…

There’s sobbing?

Yuuri tries to stumble toward the noise, barely feeling anything against his toes and fingers as he falls and the ground shifts beneath him. The noise gets louder and louder as he moves, and his heart _aches_. He’s never heard a sound so broken and desperate. He doesn’t know what he can do to help, but he _has_ to try.

Something begins to shine in the distance, almost blinding Yuuri as he runs toward it. By the time that his eyes adjust he can just make out a flash of silver and blue, easy to recognize. And he has to get closer, he needs to be there, but he’s making no progress, and then—

Yuuri sits up straight in his bed, gasping for air. He grabs at his chest where it still hurts, an ache like something’s fractured. But nothing’s actually broken. He’ll get over it. It was just a dream.

Wasn’t it?

That was definitely Victor. The dream was fractured, yeah, like the glimpses that he keeps getting out of the corner of his eye, but it was enough. But… no. It just doesn’t feel _right_ that Victor would be feeling something like that because of Yuuri, maybe there’s something outside of this whole situation going on.

Except a part of Yuuri knows he’s been assuming way too much at this point.

He lets out a groan, burying his face in his hands. The pain in his chest lets up a little, but what if that _is_ what Victor’s feeling? If he’s wrong, what if it really is Yuuri who made him feel like that? Though… that is a _lot_ to feel about what happened. Maybe Yuuri’s looking too much into it, but if that feeling in the dream _is_ real, it’s almost.. deeper and more set than Yuuri’s own recent wounds, jagged roots running old and deep. It’s almost like he felt exactly what was going on in Victor, and it was just… so much more than just _this_.

Not that Yuuri didn’t screw up and that Victor doesn’t have a right to hurt. He probably… well, definitely made everything worse in every way. He just keeps screwing up at every given opportunity and…

Yuuri takes a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes.

That isn’t helping anything. He’s already sick and tired of the guilt and the devastation from Sochi, he doesn’t need to wallow in this, too. There’s nothing he can do to fix Sochi. Even though he still loves skating somewhere deep down, he can’t see any way forward right now.

But, for all that it destroyed him and ruined all his hopes and dreams, it’s not as urgent as this situation with Vitya. Maybe it’s because ice skating and Victor Nikiforov have become so intertwined for him throughout the years; Yuuri fell in love with the ice a before Victor or Vitya even came into his life, but once he was there, he pushed Yuuri harder and further than anything else.

Yuuri probably would have kept skating even if Victor Nikiforov had never touched the ice, but he can’t help that for so many years the two entwined to the point where he can’t think of one without the other.

And Yuuri might not see any way to keep skating professionally right now, but he can start righting some of the other wrongs he caused in his life.

He fumbles around his nightstand, first grabbing his glasses, and then squinting at his phone.

Damn, it’s early. He only slept for a few hours, maybe. He’d blame it on jet lag, but the hollow ache in his chest reminds him that’s not all he’s suffering from. When he was on the plane he was having those visions, and his dreams were restless, and…

Well, at least if it’s this early, he can head out no one will catch him and ask him any questions about what he’s doing. He knows he can’t hide forever, but he needs to do this _now_, and the timing works out…

With a huff, Yuuri forces himself from the warmth of the bed, shivering in the cold.

Wait, cold?

Yuuri shuffles over and peeks out the window—and his mouth falls open. There’s like a _foot_ of snow outside. In Hasetsu. In April.

Yeah, it had started snowing last night, but Yuuri never expected it to _stick. _It would be surprising in Detroit, but not impossible. In Hasetsu, though…

He shakes his head. He has enough going on without trying to figure out weather patterns, too. This’ll make sure that absolutely _no one_ is out to bother him. He wouldn’t be surprised if most of Hasetsu shuts down today—though maybe that’ll be good business for the onsen. He better hurry so he’s back in time to help.

Yuuri scrambles off the bed, digging through his suitcase for warm clothes, and then searching for something very specific he was lucky enough to have packed and brought with him—despite how heavy it is.

He sneaks as best he can through the onsen, and it’s almost funny that he still remembers how to sneak across the old floorboards while hardly making a noise. He’s given up on sleep on so many restless nights by escaping to Minako’s studio, or the ice rink, that it’s like he’s been dropped straight into another life, one that feels like it both is and isn’t his.

Well, stepping out into the snow ruins that feeling.

He winces against the sharp bite of the cold wind, nuzzling into his scarf as he plods into the snow. It’s weird, how quiet it makes everything. Not that Hasetsu is a loud place, but by this time of the year there’s supposed to be the buzz of insects, and the rustle of new growth on the trees—but all there is right now is the muffled crunching of Yuuri’s shoes in the fresh snow.

It makes him feel more alone than ever. Not that he doesn’t have his family here, and he knows he should really check his phone and text Phichit back because he’s heading off to Worlds… Wow, he’s probably going today or tomorrow. Phichit probably got a bunch of friends to help him pack last minute so he wouldn’t worry Yuuri while he was upset, and Yuuri can’t help but feel bad about that. But soon he’ll be in the same time zone—

Soon Victor Nikiforov will be in the same time zone.

Yuuri stumbles over his own feet, but he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t let himself dwell too much on it.

He can’t afford to go all the way out to Tokyo. And if he does get back in touch with Victor, it’s not going to be to beg him to buy him tickets to Tokyo so he can apologize in person. Victor’s already done too much for him, and Yuuri… he _will_ find a way to make things better. But, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t even know what he wants to say to Victor yet.

A flicker of silver flashes in the corner of his vision, startling him into almost tripping again.

He scowls, shuffling along down toward the bridge. He didn’t think the walk itself would be so dangerous because of his own dumb thoughts and possibly hallucinations. Well, probably not hallucinations. And as time goes on, they only seem to get stronger…

Well, it’s not like Yuuri should bother Victor now, anyway. Interrupting him in the build-up to Worlds would be the worst possible thing that he could do. And maybe this way he can do some research or something, maybe there have been other cases like theirs, maybe he can figure out why he hasn’t been showing up to visit Vitya and he can… fix it?

Something cold that has nothing to do with the weather wraps tight around Yuuri’s chest, shortening his breath. Being in Victor’s apartment, going to his _rink_, being by his side in his space while he’s just… Yuuri.

But Victor was in Yuuri’s space while he was at his most pathetic, and he didn’t run. He did everything but run. He… he’ll work it out. Even if it still hurts to think about Vitya, and Sochi, and Vicchan, Yuuri’s going to try. He’s gonna get there.

Or, well, he hopes.

A small, logical part of him thinks that if Victor put up with him this long, he might not hate Yuuri enough to never forgive him. Yuuri tried to make his boundaries clear—even if he was the first one to try and step over them.

But what if he _does _hate Yuuri?

Because Yuuri deserves it. He told Victor he wasn’t real for months and then…

Maybe he just screwed up too much.

Shaking his head, Yuuri picks up his pace as he makes it up to and around the ice rink until he finds the staff entrance. It’s a bit tricky with all the snow, but he finds the rock that the Nishigoris keep the spare key under, no matter how many times Yuuri’s told them it isn’t a safe spot. He stumbles inside, the rink ridiculously warm compared to how beyond cold it is outside.

It’s eerily quiet in here, too, but in a way that Yuuri recognizes. It settles in a comforting hum in his bones. His fingers itch to lace up his skates, but he didn’t bring them. The weight in his arms is something else entirely, something more important right now.

Yuuri trails through the silent hallways, down a path that’s familiar in a way he could ever forget. He pushes open the back door to the rink’s man-made cave, bracing himself to inevitably be tackled by a giant beast—but, no. The rest of the rink may be the same, but Vicchan isn’t.

He snores away, absolutely unaware of anyone bursting into his cave. It’s so different from the energetic dragon he used to be—he’s small for an ice dragon in general, but it always seemed like he made up for his small size with sheer, boundless energy. Yuuko joked that he always slept with one eye open because the moment you were anywhere near him, Vicchan was always up and greeting you. A younger Yuuri used to worry about if Vicchan actually slept, because he saw it so rarely.

But now…

“Poor Vicchan,” Yuuri murmurs, almost reaching out and touching him—but not yet. Instead, he settles onto the soft padding of Vicchan’s cave a little ways away from his snout, opens the package, and quietly rummages around a moment before he finds the instructions.

It’s simple, of course it is. They’re tablets of healing ice magic, like what Vicchan can no longer produce, with some manufacturing to make it heal permanently instead of patch him up. Yuuri knows that once a dragon’s sick like this, they’re more prone to more diseases, but… this medicine will cure this one.

Vicchan just has to take it. It’s that simple.

Guilt and relief crash over Yuuri in a tangled wave that he can’t make heads or tails of. He feels both heavy and light, breathing coming a little rougher. It shouldn’t be like this, but Vicchan is going to be _okay_.

Yuuri reaches out, gently stroking along Vicchan’s snout. “Hey Vicchan. Wake up! There you are, that’s it. What a good boy.”

Vicchan rouses slowly, big brown eyes blinking away the lethargy of sleep. His tail sweeps across the floor lazily as he begins to get excited, nudging further into Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri laughs, giving Vicchan an extra scratch before he unscrews the lid to the large tablets, doing the math a couple times in his head on how many Vicchan should have from how much he weighed when the vet was here last week…

Wow, Victor sent _way_ too much. This is enough for five dragons, probably. Yuuri will have to give it to the vet later, so he can give it or get it sent to other dragons that need it. At least it’ll go somewhere good, but Victor _really_ didn’t need to.

But he _wanted_ to.

Heat floods Yuuri’s cheeks as the thought settles heavy in his stomach. _Yuuri_ may not have wanted Victor to do this, but Victor… he didn’t have to and he did it anyway. He could’ve sent Yuuri anything to prove he was real. Maybe he could overnight a letter from Russia with his signature? He could’ve probably posted a picture on Instagram while holding a note saying, “Look, Yuuri, I’m real!” or something that didn’t even cost a dime.

But Victor has a dragon he cares about a lot too, and he knew how it had been eating Yuuri and…

Vicchan nudges his arm.

Yuuri laughs, the sound a little strained. “Here you go, Vicchan. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

He pulls out the tablets he needs, checking and double-checking that it’s the right amount before he reaches out, pries Vicchan’s mouth open and tosses them in deep enough that Vicchan automatically swallows.

“Good boy! Such a good boy.” Yuuri gives him more scratches. “It should only take a few hours for it to kick in, so by the time that Yuuko will come to open the place up…”

They shouldn’t push Vicchan too much or too fast while his body recovers, but there are rarely any complications. He’ll be able to make more ice than he’s been able to in months. The aches that he suffers from will go away. He… he’ll be okay.

Yuuri stands up, tears burning at his eyes. Vicchan is yawning and settling back in, he should let him rest, and—

Yuuri’s eyes catch on a piece of paper on the ground, smaller than anything from the instruction packet was. He bends down and picks up before he thinks about it.

And then he nearly drops it.

It’s just a printed note, and for a moment Yuuri thought it might have been a receipt—not that he _wants _to know the total. He knows how much it was for just enough to treat Vicchan, this and this is _so much_. But he definitely wasn’t ready for this, either.

A message from Vitya.

He knows he shouldn’t read it, that it’ll only make him feel _worse_, but his eyes are already moving of their own accord.

_Dearest Yuuri_,

_Surprise! Or, well, I hope it’s a surprise. I’m not too good at keeping secrets, so hopefully I didn’t let it slip. I had it sent as fast as possible so I wouldn’t sit on it for too long. _

_I know you’re probably a little upset with me, but I hope it’s not too much. Everyone can see how this is weighing on you, and if it were my Makka, I would give anything and do anything for her. I know you’ve said not to send or do anything to prove I’m real, but you’ve given me so much, and I had to do something in return._

_Besides, we’re stuck together! We have to work things out, or it will get awkward, and we don’t want that, right?_

_Your Vitya_

Yuuri’s hands shake and he tries so hard not to wrinkle the paper, but it’s getting hard to see with the tears building in his eyes.

He fucked up. And Victor’s right, maybe if they had been stuck together, they would have worked through it, but now Yuuri’s taken Victor’s gift while tossing the man aside like garbage—and for what? For his pride?

Yuuri screwed up at the Grand Prix Final, he crashed and burned at Nationals. He graduated and got a degree for what feels like _nothing_, and came home with absolutely nothing to show for his life abroad. He’s a dime-a-dozen skater, and they all know it, even if no one will say it to his face.

But at least… he could keep trying to fix all of that. While Vicchan’s here and healthy, he can skate, and practice, and maybe redeem himself Nationally—he knows better than to hope to compete internationally again with so little support. He could find a good job with his degree—or maybe somehow put his education to good work at the onsen. They’re things that he maybe can’t fix, but he can try and bandage them up and move forward. He had been trying to, with skating.

What’s happened with Vitya, though? He doesn’t know if he can fix this. He doesn’t know if he _should_. Maybe this was the extent of them being soulmates. It started with Yuuri destroying his dreams surrounding Victor Nikiforov, and it ended that way, too. Maybe by now he’s realized how terrible a person that Yuuri is.

And really, what does Yuuri have to offer anyone? He’s shy, he’s anxious, and right now there’s a crater in his chest from the impact of failing so badly and so often that he’s not sure it can ever be filled again. He’s not fun, or flirty, or even remotely in the same league as Victor.

But he doesn’t want to have Victor hurt because of him.

That’s assuming he hasn’t forgotten about Yuuri by now, but… they’ve spent _weeks_ together. Even if it didn’t mean as much to Victor as it did to Yuuri, that counts for something, right?

But how is he going to apologize if he has no way to do it? If Victor hates him—and he has every right to—then _should_ he try to apologize?

A broken sob escapes Yuuri’s throat. Why does he only ever make things worse? Why can’t he make something _better_, for once?

He shouldn’t be here in this rink right now. He should go home, where he won’t upset Vicchan, where he won’t freak out Yuuko if she comes in early. He should—

“Holy shit, you’re crying _again_?”

Yuuri squeaks, dropping the note for a second before scrambling to scoop it up.

Vicchan growls while he fumbles, rising on unsteady legs as he curls around Yuuri, baring his teeth at…

_No_.

It can’t be.

Yuuri takes his glasses off, wiggling out of Vicchan’s grip so he can clean them and make sure they weren’t just gross from traveling and crying and whatever.

But it definitely isn’t his glasses.

Standing in front of Yuuri, glaring at him through brilliant green eyes and with his faint, gossamer wings on display, is the junior world champion of men’s singles, part fairy but all anger:

Yuri Plisetsky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You expect me to write a fic without my smol, angry boy? Fools! Cowards!!! Jk, jk, I’m just a sucker for Yuuri and Yuri friendship, so he always shows up.
> 
> Also! Note that the chapter count AND the summary have been updated and that this fic is completely and totally written. :D I might have, uh. Overdone it with NaNo.
> 
> Thank you OODLES to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/)for betaing, and to [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for cheerleading and alphaing! And thank YOU guys so, so much for contiuing to read and leave your lovely comments and support!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	12. Twelve

“What are you doing here?” Yuuri squeaks, holding onto Vicchan tightly as the dragon growls—Yuuri’d like to say his grip is so tight because he’s restraining Vicchan, but more than that he’s holding on so he himself doesn’t bolt.

Yuri may be the best junior of his division, he may be part fairy, he may have traveled halfway around the world to harass Yuuri—but in the end, he’s just a kid. He was, what, fourteen? Fifteen? When he harassed Yuuri at the Grand Prix Final, which means he’s about ten years younger than Yuuri. He should _not_ beintimidated by a kid.

Even if, well. He kinda is.

“_You_ aren’t the one who gets to ask questions here, idiot.” Yuri jabs a finger at Yuuri, but immediately pulls it back when Vicchan snaps at him.

“Vicchan, stop.” Yuuri’s voice comes out calmer than he could’ve hoped for, thankfully. He wraps an arm around Vicchan’s neck, tugging him back a little, and getting him to meet his eyes. Then Yuuri scratches lightly behind Vicchan’s ear in whatever comfort that he can offer. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid of him. Good boy, there you go.”

Well, Yuuri can’t be entirely sure that they _shouldn’t_ be afraid of Yuri, but eating their guest would be bad manners. Never mind that ice dragons are vegetarians—or herbivores, or whatever—and Vicchan’s never hurt anyone in his life. Yuuri knows that if push comes to shove, those horns that Vicchan has aren’t for show.

They’re just _definitely_ not for showing this kid.

“What the _fuck_, what’s wrong with your dragon?” Yuri grimaces, pushing his blonde hair from his face, like he’s making sure that Yuuri can see his glare.

_What’s wrong with _you? Yuuri barely bites back his retort. “He’s sick, and he wasn’t expecting you.” Yuuri frowns. “How are you even in here? The door is locked, and—”

“No, I already told you: _You_ don’t get to ask questions!” Yuri crosses his arms, eyeing Vicchan like he expects the dragon to do something about his statement.

Yuuri grips Vicchan a little tighter. “This is _my_ town, and _my_ rink. Why should _you_ get to ask questions?”

Yuri sneers, eyes wild. “Because you’re such a fuck up, that’s why!”

Yuuri… deflates and looks away. Yeah, Yuri’s a kid, but even he can see that much. Yuuri’s not sure what he did this time that has Yuri so angry at him—he _has_ to be over the Grand Prix Final by now, what with dominating the juniors division and Yuuri being so forgettable—but knowing his track record, Yuuri’s got to have done something.

Something worth _traveling to Japan_ over, though?

Vicchan curls his neck around Yuuri a little, forming a small barrier between the two

Yuri clears his throat “Hey, idiot. I…”

Yuuri turns back toward Yuri, finding the kid frowning at him. Obviously still pissed, but thinking about something, too.

And then Yuri’s stomach rumbles so loudly it makes Vicchan twitch.

“Shut up!” Yuri snaps before Yuuri can even smile with amusement. “I’m here because _some_ people are dumbasses who can’t get their lives together, so you owe me breakfast.”

“And you owe me explanations,” Yuuri says softly. Yeah, he’s—as Yuri puts it—a fuck up, but that doesn’t explain why exactly Yuri’s here, harassing him. Especially when he should be in _Russia_.

“Fine. Whatever.” Yuri vaguely waves a hand. “Let’s just get out of here.”

###

The walk back is awkward, to say the least.

Yuri doesn’t shut up. Between throwing not-so-subtle insults at Yuuri, he asks about why he was at an ice rink, where they’re going, what’s with the weather, why Yuuri’s awake, why Yuuri’s even _here_ and not in America, what Vicchan’s name is, why he’s sick, and on and on.

This is what Yuuri would expect from Yuuko’s triplets, not a teenager.

Not that he says that, of course. In fact, he avoids and vaguely answers as much as he can. In part that’s because Yuri seems to be determined to use anything he can as a weapon against Yuuri, but also because Yuri is part faerie. His wings are hidden again, but that doesn’t hide his fair features, or the way the air is a little more electric around him. A lot of the myths about the fair folk have been debunked at this point, and honestly most are content to live and let live, but everyone knows the stories from when humans and faeries were mortal enemies. Honestly, Yuuri’s nervous enough knowing that Yuri has his _name_, much less anything else.

Luckily they get back right as his family is starting to rise. Yuuri was planning on sneaking in the back door all by himself and getting up to his room to maybe, hopefully take a nap, but _that’s_ not going to happen.

There’s the clanging of pots in the kitchen as Toshiya starts breakfast, and the distant hum of Hiroko and Mari’s voices as they probably have their tea.

“Dad?” Yuuri calls out as he hands over a pair of house slippers to Yuri that look about his size. “Um. We have a guest.”

Things go quiet for a moment before Toshiya pops his head around the corner, blinking at the two of them in the entryway for a moment before stepping forward.

“Yuuri, are you all right?” Toshiya asks in Japanese, eyes flicking over to Yuri every once in a while. “What are you doing up this early?”

“Um, I went for a walk,” Yuuri responds in English—even if Yuri’s going to be kind of a little asshole, Yuuri will be polite. And, well. Yuuri’s going to own up to giving Vicchan the medicine sooner rather than later, but he’s got a few more immediate problems to take care of before dropping that bomb on his family. “I didn’t want to bother anyone, but I needed to get out of the house.”

Toshiya nods, still familiar enough with Yuuri’s habits to know that he just does that sometimes. When his thoughts get too loud, or too consuming, or too much of anything, moving’s always helped.

“Well, who is this?” Hiroko says in heavily-accented English—obviously having eavesdropped a little—coming in from around the corner and beaming at Yuri. “I didn’t think you’d be having guests so soon, Yuuri!”

Yuri snorts a little but doesn’t speak up, instead turning toward Yuuri with an eyebrow raised.

What a _brat_. Yuuri takes a breath, shaking the thought from his brain. “He’s, um. A skating friend?”

Yuri glares at him like Yuuri just insulted his entire family, but doesn’t open his mouth to contradict it at least.

Hiroko glances between the two of them for a moment, obviously searching for something before she nods. “I see. Well, come in then! A friend of Yuuri’s is a friend of the family. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had a traditional Japanese breakfast before, have you?”

The short answer is no.

The long answer is that Yuuri gets one hell of a show while he’s eating breakfast. Yuri is very… expressive. Even if his only two emotions seems to be disgusted and being very bad at trying to hide his delight.

“What’s your name?” Hiroko asks while Toshiya’s off cooking up another course for Yuri.

Yuuri had offered to do it himself or to help, in part because it really is his guest and his responsibility, but mostly because it gives him an excuse to escape. Unfortunately, his father is too stubborn to give in to Yuuri’s pleas for help.

“Yuri,” he manages through a half-full mouth of rice.

“Same as Yuuri!” Hiroko beams.

Mari gasps, and Yuuri knows that expression. It’s reserved _exclusively_ for those idol boys that she’s been following since she was a teen. “Well, we can’t have two Yuris, can we? We’ll call you Yurio.”

“_What_?” Yuri—_Yurio_ snaps, and Yuuri holds back a bit of a snicker.

“That’s cute!” Toshiya exclaims as he walks back into the room. “And it does make it much easier.”

“I agree.” Hiroko beams at Yurio.

And Yurio… doesn’t quite cower, but he definitely shrinks under the earnest tittering of Yuuri’s family. Not afraid, but definitely not comfortable. “Whatever, I guess,” he mutters.

“Excellent.” Mari grins like the cat that got the cream.

Yuuri flicks her arm lightly—but honestly he wishes he were brave enough to have given this kid _that_ nickname.

The rest of breakfast passes in a blur of conversation with Yuuri constantly getting left behind, other than when he needs to translate a little for his family. They’ve learned English better than most anyone in Hasetsu so they can cater to rare, international clientele—but it’s not like they get a chance to use it that often.

Eventually, they clean up, Yuuri helping carry dishes to the kitchen, while Hiroko starts helping out Toshiya in the kitchen, and Mari makes sure that the baths are in order.

But Yuuri can’t hide forever, no matter how much he wishes he could. It's mid-morning when they finish clearing the table, later than usual because of all the excitement Yurio brought to their breakfast. And with his family wandering off to attend to their duties, there's no around to save Yuuri when he's cornered in the family dining area.

“So what the hell are you doing here?” Yurio spits out, somehow managing to take up so much space in the room, despite being tiny and sitting.

Yuuri hesitates, but then he kneels down opposite Yurio and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want this conversation, or any confrontation, or anything. He’s got enough to deal with on his plate without his skating failures haunting him, too.

But it’s not like there’s any way out of this. And, really, at this point Yuuri should know better than to run from everything that makes him uncomfortable.

With a sigh, Yuuri meets Yurio’s eyes. “I’m here because it’s my home. And you’re the one who promised to answer questions after eating, so why are _you_ here, Yurio?”

Yuuri would definitely be lying if he said that the reason he tacked that “Yurio” on to the end of that sentence wasn’t for the way that Yurio glowered at him for it.

“Fine. Whatever.” Yurio huffs, crossing his arms. “I’m here about whatever the hell you did to Victor.”

Yuuri freezes. “What?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you for _weeks_, he finally started actually talking and pushing back at Yakov at the ice rink again, and then he just _stops_. He stops caring again, and he doesn’t mention your name, and next thing anyone knows you’re over here in Japan, _hiding._” He snarls the final word. “You did something to him, and I’m here to find out _what._”

Yuuri stiffens. “I… that’s none of your business.”

Yurio slams his hands against the table. “So you _did_ do something. Then what the fuck are you doing here? What did you _do_?”

“I already told you. It’s none of your business.” Yuuri rises to his feet in stiff movements.

“Fine!” Yurio leans back so he can keep glaring up at Yuuri. “Then what are you going to do to fix it?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour? Yuuri would kill to know the answer himself—but no matter how long or how hard he thinks on it, the answers only seem to get more muddled instead of clearer. It’s all the same circle: they need to talk, but how can Yuuri talk to him, and maybe Victor doesn’t _want_ to talk, but Yuuri hurt Victor and he has to try and let him know that Yuuri’s just an idiot, but how is he going to get in contact with Victor?

“And _don’t_ say it isn’t my business,” Yurio snaps as Yuuri opens his mouth to repeat just that. “Victor is… he’s my… well, he’s trash, but he’s _my_ trash, and _I’m_ the one who has to share a rink and get distracted by his miserable ass. It isn’t just about you selfish morons.”

Yuuri winces. He really is self-centered, isn’t he? But what does Yurio want, bursting into his house like this and demanding answers to an argument that isn’t his? Maybe Yurio does deserve an explanation, but Yuuri can’t give an answer he doesn’t have. “I know I’m selfish. I know there’s something wrong. But I don’t know how to make it better.”

Yurio… freezes. His eyes are wide, like he didn’t even consider that it wouldn’t be as simple as crashing into a strangers house and demanding everything gets put back together like it was.

It’s not like things are ever the same again once they break, anyway.

“Then—what? You’re just going to sit here and do nothing?” Yurio finally gets up, still coming up a little short of Yuuri, even at his full height.

“I didn’t say that.” And Yuuri’s had enough of going in circles in his own mind, he doesn’t need a kid dragging him around in even more. “Not to mention, you shouldn’t even _be_ here. Why would you fly halfway across the world just to yell at me when, I don’t know, you could’ve sent a text or a letter or something?”

Yurio gives him a blank look. “You think I flew across the world just to see you? Pathetic.”

Yuuri tenses. “What else am I supposed to assume?”

“That _Worlds_ is happening in a few days. Junior Worlds is over, meaning that I get to come and check out the competition for next season.” Yurio raises an eyebrow. “And this year, Worlds is in Tokyo.”

_Oh_. Yuuri sucks in a breath. He… he promised Vitya he’d watch his performance—but can he stand it?

No, he doesn’t have time to think about that, now. “That’s still a hell of a long way away to come just to harass me.”

“Not when you have travel magic.” Yurio smirks. “It’s one of the few things I can do, and doesn’t re-classify me as a magic skater because it doesn’t help and I can’t do anything cool with it. Other than come down here to kick your ass.”

Well, he’s certainly trying his best at the latter. And… that does make sense, but, “Does your coach know you’re here?”

Yurio stiffens. “Uh, yeah, of course he does—”

“So if I call Celestino and have him get ahold of Yakov’s number for me, he’ll definitely say that you’re accounted for?” Both of Yuuri’s brows raise. “And that you’re not worrying anybody?”

“I’m not a _child—l”_

“Maybe not,” Yuuri agrees, even as he silently disagrees. “But you’re still going to worry them right before the biggest competition of the season. I know Yakov has multiple adult students competing, and if they lose, that blame might fall on you.”

Yurio turns a shade of red so bright that he’d give beets a run for their money. “Fine. I’ll go back and let Yakov know where I am. But I’m coming back!”

“Of course you are,” Yuuri mutters, hopefully quiet enough that Yurio doesn’t hear. “Thank you, I’m sure it’ll be a weight off their shoulders.”

“Whatever,” Yurio mutters as his wings spring back to life, a slight shimmer of light washing over him as he fades from view without so much as a goodbye.

Yuuri lets out a breath and wilts. He’s _never_ going to have kids, how does Yakov and Yurio’s family deal with that on a daily basis?

Well, regardless, any chance of Yuuri taking a nap after his excursion to give Vicchan his medicine is _long_ gone. There’s a thrumming in his veins that demands that he moves, that he works through this, and Yuuri definitely doesn’t want to have to talk to Minako to use her studio—he doesn’t want to talk to _anyone._ Any energy he’d set aside to deal with people has been sucked up by a single, fiery teen, and right now there’s one place he can think of that might still be abandoned, considering the weather.

So for the second time that day, Yuuri leaves the house carrying a heavy bundle, but this time the weight in his backpack isn’t for Vicchan—it’s for him.

As he gets to the ice rink, he notes only one pair of footsteps leading up to the front door, probably just one of the Nishigoris opening up. So no public skate time yet—or if it is open, no one’s come in.

No one’s ever minded when he’s snuck in the side entrance undetected—well, there was the one time that Takeshi caught him practicing jumps alone and chewed him out for an hour until Yuuri promised to always have someone around to spot him, but that was when he was a kid—especially when there were no customers around.

So Yuuri slips in and ends up right back where he started the day, next to Vicchan.

He swivels his head when Yuuri enters, getting up to his feet to come bump his face hard onto Yuuri’s chest.

A laugh bubbles out of Yuuri’s lips, and he gives Vicchan a good scratching, cooing at the dragon. He’s not back at his old peppiness, but this is more than Yuuri’s seen from him in the past day he’s been home. Vicchan deserves this. He deserves to be happy.

And so does his namesake.

With a sigh, Yuuri pushes Vicchan away enough that he can be sure the dragon’s listening. “How about some ice, Vicchan?”

Vicchan’s tail flicks as his pupils widen, and he turns and rushes from his little cave in a sort of shuffle. Yuuri follows him out and sits at the bleachers, taking a moment to watch Vicchan’s precise, well-trained movements. He breathes onto the slushy water of the rink gently, moving slow and making sure it’s smooth by going over it with his tail. He’s concentrated on his work, and as careful as ever, but he’s definitely slower than he was before—if still faster than a mechanical Zamboni.

But Yuuri eventually turns his attention to his skates, movements automatic as he begins to put them on. The ice always pulls him back, somehow. He can’t even escape it in Hasetsu, when he’d planned to not be able to skate for the immediate future.

And he’s not sure how he feels about it.

Yeah, the ice has led him to some of his greatest failures, it was the catalyst to all of his lowest lows. But it’s been amazing, too. He’s met all of his non-familial soulmates through skating—Yuuko was his first, and it was only when they were older that it came to light. Their parents recognized the other child’s names from when they had body swapped when they were younger, but it was the ice that dragged them together in the end. Vicchan is an ice dragon, one that Yuuri was desperate for after hearing his figure skating idol had one. He would have never seen Phichit’s glow if he hadn’t moved to Detroit to train under Celestino. And then, well. There was always Vitya.

He really can’t resent the ice too much. It’s hard, absolutely unforgiving, but one of the greatest sources of love in his life.

Even when the ice and all the connections he’s made with it draws a ridiculous, feisty teenager to his front step.

Yuuri rises, going through a few warm-up stretches while Vicchan finishes up, takes off his glasses, then steps onto the ice with a sigh of relief.

This is easy. It’s natural. If only the rest of his life could follow suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon zambonis are not logical in any sense of the word, but they're CUTE so don’t judge me for them pls.
> 
> Also! I forgot to mention last chapter, but I started posting another long (though shorter than Jello) fic for an exchange and Yuuri's b-day--[check it out if you're in the mood for some gods, monsters, and h/c!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21515821/chapters/51284938)
> 
> As always bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for keeping me somewhat sane. And thank YOU guys for continuing to read and comment!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
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	13. Thirteen

The ice soothes an itch under Yuuri’s skin that he wasn’t entirely aware he had. It’s probably in part because this is Vicchan’s ice, this is evidence that Vicchan’s okay and healthy right now. The relief is so huge and so overwhelming that Yuuri almost feels like he’s imagining it—it’s too soon, it’s too sudden.

But skating itself is settling in the way it has always been. The ice is his home away from home, where he can express things and do things that he can’t do anywhere else. Even Minako’s studio. He does like to go there to calm down sometimes, too, but this is different. The ice has _always_ been different.

He slides into the familiar, comforting movements of skating figures easily. It’s as calming as his breathing exercises when he gets anxious.

What _isn’t_ normal are the flashes of silver lurking at the edges of his vision, even more solid and there than they have been before.

It’s not surprising, though. Everything comes back to the ice, especially with Victor.

Still, it doesn’t help Yuuri understand how to handle and fix things any better.

With a deep breath, Yuuri finds himself gliding toward the center of the ice. He thinks he sees Vicchan’s head tilt slightly with curiosity, but he can’t be sure at this distance and without his glasses. Vicchan’s always been curious about skating in general, they had to train him not to try and join in on Yuuri’s routines, no matter how adorable it was; a giant dragon plus sharp knife shoes equals a recipe for disaster.

It's a comfort to have him here, have someone who enjoys Yuuri's skating just because that's what it is, not because it's good or bad. The metal machines in Detroit didn't have the same personality, and when people watch him, they only expect things.

But now he can do whatever he wants. He can go back to where he began.

Yuuri falls into a position that's become more familiar than his old routines in the past few months, and he moves. Despite the silence, and despite the flashes of silver and blue, the music that he knows down to his bones echoes in his ears, the strings and the vocals aching through him.

When Victor first skated this routine, Yuuri researched all he could about it, including the song and the opera that it came from. It’s a tragedy, longing and loss rung out in every note and every movement of choreography for the routine. But surrounded by Vicchan and the reminders of Victor, Yuuri _really_ feels it for the first time.

He thought that he knew it before, having lost his dreams, having lost Vicchan—but so much of that was said and done, a shut door with no way forward. Now Yuuri wants to reach out, he wants to fix things, and he doesn’t know how and it _hurts._

A heavy, sharp weight trails from his chest to the flicks of his wrists, the strokes of his legs—even in the arc of his jumps, though they’re downgraded from the version that Victor skates.

It feels _good_, even if it stings.

The routine winds downs and Yuuri sweeps his arms around himself, clutching his shoulders as he drags in gasps of air. He didn’t even realize he was almost out of breath. He didn’t realize how much his muscles were burning.

It’s been a long time since a routine sucked him in like that.

“What the fuck?”

Yuuri whips around, squinting at the entrance. There’s a familiar blob of brown hair—Yuuko, a very familiar sight despite the years gone by—and an unfortunate head of blonde next to her.

Yuuri briefly wonders if he can skate to the far wall and launch himself over the boards.

But then Yurio’s moving toward him because of _course_ he has his skates on, and Yuuri freezes.

“You can skate like _that_, and you’re retiring? What the _fuck_?”

“You already said that,” Yuuri points out before his brain catches up with his words.

Yurio turns red. “Yeah, because it apparently needs to be _repeated_ for dumbasses like _you_.”

“Why are you so angry?” Yuuri manages to get out, hoping his voice doesn’t squeak. He’s tired, he’s achy, and the flashes of silver and blue are just getting worse and it _isn’t_ helping with his anxiety.

“Because you weren’t actually supposed to retire!” Yurio’s eyes are wide and… it’s not just anger that makes his eyes wet. But he still pulls back an arm and punches Yuuri in the shoulder—a lot harder than Yuuri was expecting. “When I said that, I didn’t—you weren’t supposed to take me _seriously_.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows for just a moment until the memory hits him harder than Yurio just did. He remembers Yurio yelling at him in a bathroom stall, it’s kind of hard to forget that, but what was said got absorbed into his cloud of self-hatred and grief at the time.

But Yurio did tell him to retire.

And that’s been the path that Yuuri’s been slowly wandering down.

Yuuri reaches out toward him. “Yurio, you didn’t—”

“Don’t you _dare_—“

Yurio smacks Yuuri’s hand away, and something… changes.

A shift in the air, like a warm breeze into a cool room, except the temperature doesn’t change. Nothing changes except the fact that between Yuuri and Yurio’s pinky fingers, there’s an orange, slightly translucent string.

“_What the fuck_,” Yurio says for the third time, and Yuuri can’t help but agree.

“Well.” Yuuri raises his hand, bringing the string between his fingers. It’s soft and fuzzy, and if he presses too hard, his fingers go straight through it. “This is… unexpected.”

“Soulmates.” Yurio scoffs, even if his eternal frown is gone, for once. “Aren’t red strings supposed to be red? Not orange like… like…” His eyes widen, his voice a whisper as he breathes, “Orange like a _tiger_.”

Yuuri bites back a grin. “Red means romance, I think.”

“Well then, thank fuck it isn’t that.” Yurio tilts his head. “Then what does orange mean?”

“I don’t know?” Yuuri’s heard about strings tying people together—there are a lot of romantic American movies about people following their red strings around the world, and living happily ever after. Phichit would cry while they watched them together—

Yuuri winces. He really needs to text Phichit.

Yurio whips out his phone in an instant—_why_ he brought it on the ice where they can break so easily is beyond Yuuri—searching away, when someone clears their throat behind them.

“Um…” Yuuko starts, and Yuuri squints to find her still at the rink entrance. “This is really exciting! I’m so happy to see two more amazing skaters become soulmates, but… how is the ice frozen? Vicchan is never able to freeze the ice before breakfast—he’s not even _awake_ before breakfast. Did… something happen? Is he okay?”

Her voice rises too high, the worry all too evident in her tone. Dragons with Vicchan’s condition don’t just _get better_, and he was definitely still stuck when Yuuri left last night.

Which means Yuuri has to explain this.

“Uh…” Yuuri clears his throat, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt, like putting this off will make it any easier. “It’s… complicated. Um.”

“You gave him the medicine earlier today, right?” Yurio hisses as raises his eyebrows. “And you didn’t tell _the owners of the ice rink_?”

Well, when he puts it that way it looks like Yuuri just fucked up _again_. Great. Wonderful. Another well-meaning mess that Yuuri created that he has to clean up. At this rate he’s going to get so buried in his dumb choices that the rest of his life is just going to be making them right.

“It has to do with Vitya, doesn’t it?” Yurio sighs, reaching up to brush his bangs out of his face.

“Uh, yeah?” Yuuri answers before he can think about it. Hearing _Vitya_ makes his brain stop processing a moment.

Yurio rolls his eyes. “Of course he would go and buy super fucking expensive dragon medicine that makes you look like a drug dealer instead of, I don’t know, _flowers_ or some shit.”

A flicker of a smile spreads across Yuuri’s face. “If it’s not over the top, it’s not Vitya.”

“And no one here knows about Vitya, do they?”

Yuuri freezes. This kid is was too observant for his own good. “No, they don’t. I just… I don’t know what’s going to happen with all that yet. And I don’t want them to know until I do.”

Yurio eyes him a long moment, before glancing down at the slowly fading string between them—it’ll fade from view, but not from existence—and then turns toward Yuuko. “I did it. I fixed this idiot’s mistakes.”

“Y-you?” Yuuko squeaks.

“Yeah. The loser needed help, so I helped. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Yurio makes eye contact with him on the last sentence, obviously more than just a lie to sell the story.

And it would be so incredibly easy for Yuuri to just let it slide. To let Yurio take this lie for him. Yuuko wouldn’t know, and she wouldn’t be hurt by it. This kid won every junior competition he showed up at for the past few years, and for all they know, he might have some money from the winnings. There’s no backlash that Yuuri can see.

But it’s another lie. It’s putting this weight on Yurio right after they first met, probably only because they’re soulmates to make it easier on Yuuri. He’s a constant, burning ball of anger that will always speak his mind, but he is still a _kid_. Yuuri doesn’t know how many soulmates Yurio has, or if Yuuri’s his first. It’s exciting, and overwhelming, and _this_ shouldn’t be what happens right after they made this discovery. Yuuri’s not entirely sure he’s ready to have this much raw anger in his life right now, but he’s _definitely _not going to place all of his insecurities and fears as a burden for Yurio to bear.

Yuuri’s done digging these holes he things won’t hurt anyone until other people fall into them.

“No, it was me,” Yuuri says, turning and skating around Yurio and toward Yuuko. “I came in before anyone was here and gave Vicchan the medicine. I… had it, and I finally gave it to him, I’m sorry.”

Yuuko frowns, eyes searching Yuuri’s face as he comes closer. “But… Yuuri. Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

“Idiot,” Yurio mutters behind him, having followed him to the entrance. “You both deserve each other.”

Yuuri doesn’t need to ask to know who “both” are. And it probably shouldn’t make something in Yuuri’s chest warm to hear that, but it does.

“I…How I got it is… It’s not illegal!” Yuuri waves his hands in front of him before a repeat of the Phichit conversation happens. “It’s just… complicated. Someone gave it to me as a gift, and I felt terrible that _I_ couldn’t be the one to save Vicchan, and—”

“Oh. Yuuri…” Yuuko reaches out a hand, and Yuuri only hesitates a moment before taking it. “You know that we don’t blame you, right? We tried to fundraise to save money for Vicchan, too—he’s practically family, and the ice rink wouldn’t exist without him. It didn’t just depend on you.”

“But if anything happens to Vicchan now—“

“What stems from this disease isn’t nearly as bad as the main thing.” She shakes her here a little. “I know you haven’t been around to talk to the vet, but… you should.”

“I… I should.” And Yuuri will, because he needs to. Because… “I know that you care about him, too, but he’s my—”

“He’s _our_ responsibility. You can’t own that alone.” She squeezes his hand. “And… um, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you’re okay, right? You didn’t… I don’t know. You said it’s not illegal, but…”

Why does everyone think that Yuuri’s so capable of committing crimes for exorbitant amounts of cash? Yuuri huffs out a small breath. “It’s legal, and I’m safe. It was a gift, I swear it was. It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated seems to be the understatement of the year.” Yurio scoffs behind him. “But he’s fine, I can second that. He’s just stubborn.”

Yuuko laughs before biting it off with a large smile. “I’ll say.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “All right, I’m stubborn. Vicchan is safe and sound. Are we done?”

“No, we are _not_ done,” Yurio snaps, drawing Yuuri and Yuuko’s attention. “You’re supposed to be retiring, and then you skate Victor’s routine better than even _Victor_ could?”

Yuuri glances between the two, but Yuuko just raises her eyebrows a little—traitor. “H-hey, no one said anything about retiring.”

Yurio snorts. “You come to this backwoods town, with a rink that no one was expecting you to be able to use, with no coach or any other support. Of course you’re retiring.”

Yuuri winces, glancing away. Yurio’s right about a lot of things, and, well. This isn’t exactly an exception. He doesn’t feel ready to retire yet, but when Yurio puts it that way…

“He’s got support,” Yuuko says, not quite scolding but with a tone she most _definitely_ uses on the triplets. “He hasMinako, and his family, and us here at the rink. And it’s not like Phichit and his other skating friends wouldn’t help out, if they could.”

But would they? After Yuuri’s failed so much and so constantly…

They _would_. Phichit never pushed him away. His mother was more disappointed that she couldn’t come to see him graduate than his accomplishments or lack thereof. His dad didn’t even mention it, and Mari cares more about Yuuri’s… other situation right now. Yuuko’s been nothing but honestly friendly since they first met, and nothing’s changed. He hasn’t seen Takeshi yet, but he knows that he’d probably give him the same treatment.

No, Yuuri doesn’t deserve it, but it’s not fair to _them_ for Yuuri to say that they wouldn’t give him any support they could if he asked.

Which means… Victor…

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath, his head swimming a little.

“Well, it’s still a shitty decision for a world-class athlete.” Yurio huffs, turning away.

Yuuko looks at Yuuri, shaking her head slightly at Yurio’s antics. “Whatever Yuuri decides, we’ll support him in that. And just because you’re soulmates doesn’t mean you get to boss him around.”

“I’m not _bossing him around_.” Yurio huffs, but skates toward the entrance, gently pushing at Yuuko to move. “But whatever. Have it your way. Let him retire and waste all of his talent. See what I care.”

Yuuri frowns at Yurio. For someone who seems to kind of like Yuuri’s skating, he sure is pissy about it.

“Oh!” Yuuko squeaks, raising her hand—with a pale, yellow string attached to it.

Yurio sighs. “_Really?”_

Yuuri bites his lip. Yuuko has more soulmates than Yuuri’s ever seen anyone else have—she charms everyone she comes into contact with. Even reclusive teenagers, apparently. He clears his throat. “Well, at least it’s lion colored.”

“Hm.” Yurio squints at the string, then at Yuuko, probably trying to come off as aloof—but the glimmer in his eye says something else entirely. “I suppose that’s pretty fucking cool.”

Yuuko laughs. “It is! Now I get to have two world-class skaters as my soulmates.”

Yurio scoffs. “You say that like you _collect_ soulmates, creeper.”

“Maybe I do.” Yuuko beams. “Now, come on, let’s let Vicchan rest. I know he’ll be fine, but…”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry.” Yuuri gives a small smile.

“Exactly! And, Yuuri… If you want to talk about whatever’s going on, you know I’ll listen any time, right?”

Yuuri can only stare for a moment, one part of him wondering how anyone could care about him like the people around him do, another part of him warmed more than he thought possible at the realization that they do. That this is all somehow his, no matter how much he feels that it’s wasted on someone like him.

“Thank you,” Yuuri finally manages to get out, and Yuuko gives him a soft smile.

“Okay, are we done being sappy here?” Yurio puts his hands on his hips. “Because I’m still here to straighten up whatever went down with—well, you know. Since no one can actually get shit done on their own. And—”

Yurio’s words are cut off with a massive growl from his stomach, and he goes a blotchy sort of red.

“Shut up,” he snarls, baring his teeth.

“Oh, so you _don’t_ want me to offer to take you back to my house and offer you the best food you’ll ever have?” Yuuri raises an eyebrow while Yuuko grins.

“Well—I—_shut up_. Let’s go.” And Yurio stomps off the ice, barely taking the time to snap on his skate guards.

Yuuri only lets himself laugh a little when the locker room doors swing shut behind him.

“I mean it, you know.” Yuuko meets Yuuri’s eyes when he turns toward her. “I’m grateful for whatever you did for Vicchan—but I’m your friend first.”

Yuuri’s smile drops a little, but becomes more earnest, something that he feels deep in his chest. “Yeah. I think I do know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotional progress? Emotional progress!!! Also, you may have noticed things have been quiet for a while… I wonder how long that’s going to last……HMMMM
> 
> As always, bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for being an amazing beta, and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being a stellar alpha! And thank you so much to you guys who are still here as Yuuri fumbles around with his emotions and gets scolded by a teenager askjdansdkj <3
> 
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	14. Fourteen

A weird sort of routine settles into Yuuri’s life in Hasetsu. He spends most of his time doing mindless chores at the inn, his thoughts racing around Vitya and the nightmares of crying and darkness and _pain_ with no solution in sight—at least until Yurio inevitably shows up.

And on that note, Yuuri’s getting way too used to being greeted by getting kicked in the back.

They’ll spend their time either eating or skating or jogging until Yurio inevitably has to disappear again to probably check in with Yakov or something. Yuuri could question why they don’t just text, but he doesn’t dare ask. Maybe Yakov would rather see Yurio in person and make sure he’s okay and not just lying—and the ability to instantly transport anywhere within a certain radius makes it easier than it would be, otherwise.

When Yuuri’s too busy at the inn to hang out with Yurio and the kid gets bored, apparently he spends a lot of time in the rink getting heckled by Yuuko and the triplets. Or, well, that’s his story. According to Yuuko, Yurio teaches and plays games with the kids and is the only one capable of wrangling them. He’s their ringleader, and Yuuko’s honestly afraid of what their small group would be capable of once the triplets are a little older.

But when Yurio _is_ around Yuuri, he can’t escape at least a daily heckling on how he _should_ be doing something about Victor, and how he _should_ be back on the ice. Yuuri _wants_ to have an answer anytime that Yurio gives a casual verbal assault, as he does, but he _doesn’t_. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to be on the ice competitively yet after Sochi. He doesn’t know how to make it work in Hasetsu. And Victor… Well, Victor’s in Tokyo, and Yuuri’s so close yet so far from him.

Yuuri’s tempted to check Victor’s social media, but he’s terrified of it, too. He hasn’t turned his phone on for days because he doesn’t want to know what’s happened while he’s hidden himself away in Hasetsu. What if Victor’s said something publicly about Yuuri? What if he’s angry and has him blocked? What if, what if, _what if_?

At least Yurio’s more or less calm whenever they’re skating together. Yurio naturally tears apart any jumps that Yuuri attempts, despite the fact that he’s only doing doubles at most, and Yurio… he asks Yuuri about step sequences? Yuuri doesn’t understand it, but Yurio always pesters the thoughts and opinions from Yuuri’s head no matter if Yuuri thinks he should say them or not.

And then, much to Yuuri’s disbelief, he _uses_ the critique, and it actually _helps_. It’s a bit of a rush, to have his words taken so seriously and for his advice to work. As the days pass, slow and lazy, Yuuri begins to give advice before Yurio even asks, and the teenager eventually just nods and tries with barely an insult thrown Yuuri’s way

Maybe if Yuuri does retire, he should go into coaching. It isn’t as if many athletes visit Hasetsu, and it’s not like he could train anyone to the point of international competitions. But maybe he could teach the local kids a few things, and if they wanted to go further, he could contact a better coach, in a bigger city.

It’s a good plan. Yuuri would definitely enjoy it.

But…

A part of him will never be ready to leave the ice as a competitor. Especially not now.

“Oy, Katsudon!”

Yuuri barely even sighs at the nickname anymore—to be fair, his family did start the nicknames with “Yurio”—slipping his first skate off his foot and looking up at Yurio, who’s obviously enjoying the fact that Yuuri’s sitting down and he can tower over him. “Yeah, Yurio?”

Yurio, on the other hand, still sneers at the nickname. “Are you watching Worlds today?”

Any warmth remaining in Yuuri, that small comfort that’s built up over the last few days of peace and quiet, flees. Yuuri had forgotten it was today. It wasn’t like he exactly kept track of the date without using his phone, and… he’s not ready.

But he has to be.

He made a promise.

Yuuri looks down, keeping his eyes trained on Yurio’s feet. “Yeah.”

“Well, you _should_ watch because—wait, really?” Yurio’s voice nearly squeaks in surprise.

Yuuri smiles a little. “I, um. I told Vitya that I’d watch. Before…”

“Before you probably both fucked up?” Yurio puts his hands on his hips, though his trademark scowl is missing. “Well, you’d better get a move on if you want to catch him, the first wave of skaters are probably finishing up their short program now now, and knowing him, he probably drew pretty early.”

Yuuri stares at Yurio for a solid second before the words sink in and Yuuri scrambles to get his other skate off, barely taking the time to take care of his feet before shoving everything in his bag and—

Yurio grabs his arm. “You don’t need to _rush._”

“Yes I do, it’ll still be a while before we get back and if I—”

“It won’t be a while.” Yurio smirks. “You ready?”

Yuuri blinks. “Uh, yeah?”

“Then hold on.”

Before Yurio even finishes talking, the world… shifts. It blurs and drips like a really bad watercolor painting, bleeding out color and rushing with noise until—

It snaps back together and they’re standing in the entrance to Yu-Topia, and Yuuri’s head and stomach are both still churning.

“Ew, are you gonna hurl?” Yurio sounds disgusted.

Yuuri would laugh if he trusted himself to open his mouth. As it is he stares solidly at a single scuff on point on the floor, trying to settle himself back into his body, or maybe just back into this _world_.

“Oh god, come on.” Yurio tugs Yuuri forward and helps him get out of his shoes and into house slippers, even as Yuuri stumbles around and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Uh,” Yuuri finally manages when the spinning recedes a bit. “That was cool, but can you warn me next time?”

“Isn’t it? But fine. Whatever. Wimp.” Yurio pulls him into the public dining room and settles him in front of a table—with a direct view of the TV.

Yurio immediately heads off to get into a one-sided shouting match with one of the patrons for control of remote—the old man sounds amused by Yurio’s antics—butYuuri’s entire body stiffens, his stomach churning because of something entirely different than the weird sensation of Yurio’s magic.

He can’t run. He won’t run. If Victor meant it, if he really wanted Yuuri to watch him skate, would it have changed after everything?

It might have. But… it might not have. And if Victor’s skating his routines for the world and not for Yuuri, that will be fine. Yuuri’s seen his routines, he knows what they look like normally.

But if it _is_ for Yuuri…

He swallows. He’s not ready for this. He wants to get right back up and run to the ice rink and skate away his worries instead of being here right now. He doesn’t want to know what Victor thinks of him. It’s going to hurt if Victor’s angry, it’s going to hurt if he doesn’t skate for Yuuri, and it would hurt _most_ if it wasn’t either of those things. It’s almost unthinkable that it would be the last option, though.

Except this is Vitya. He always does the unthinkable.

And Yuuri owes it to him to at least follow through on this one promise, after everything.

“_Finally._” Yurio flops down, flipping through the channels until he hits the right one.

It’s not Victor skating, instead it’s a skater from China flitting across the screen in a graceful step sequence that almost has Yuuri letting out a breath in relief. He’s not ready, he’ll never be ready, but at least he has a little more time.

Yurio heckles every single flaw that he sees in the routine, and after a few seconds to calm down, Yuuri points out a few things that Yurio misses, if a little more politely. It’s a beautiful performance overall, and Yuuri loses himself in it and taking it apart until it’s done, and the scores are announced and—

Victor’s already skated. He’s on the scoreboard.

He’s in third.

He hasn’t been in third in a long, _long_ time.

“Bummer.” Yurio comments, eyes not moving from the TV. “Well, you can catch Victor’s free, at least. And you better make sure you watch it—Yakov’s making me stay with him for the next couple of days, so I’ll watch in person and know what to expect, and you better not fucking miss it.”

“Oh.” Yuuri shouldn’t be disappointed about that, honestly. If he cries when Victor skates—and he _always_ cries when Victor skates, he can only imagine what it’ll be like now that he knows him—having Yurio around is probably not a great idea if he doesn’t want to have constant screaming and maybe some punching. But still, Yuuri doesn’t know if he wants to be alone. “I hope that you enjoy it?”

Yurio scoffs. “It’d be better if I could stay here. The food’s nicer. But it’s weird, that’s the lowest Victor’s scored all season.”

No, that’s the lowest that Victor’s scored in more than just this season. Yuuri’s fingers itch to go and get his phone, to turn it on and watch, but… “What do you think happened?”

Yurio shrugs. “He didn’t sleep well. He hasn’t _been_ sleeping well. But you know the free is where it counts, and he may suck, but his choreography in that skate doesn’t.”

Yuuri hums noncommittally. Out of all the options that Yuuri considered, Victor getting anything less than gold in everything is unthinkable. But Yuuri couldn’t have been the change here.

Unless he _is_.

“Hey, isn’t that the skater you keep talking about?” Yurio’s voice snaps Yuuri out of his thoughts.

Yuuri glances up, and he can’t help the reflexive grin that spreads across his lips. “Phichit!”

Phichit’s short program is something as peppy as he himself is. He kept hinting that his programs this year are a warm-up for what he wants to do next year, what he’s been trying to convince Celestino to let him do for years. And with this performance, Yuuri thinks that he’s convinced everyone—from Celestino to the crowd—that he’s on the right track.

It’s not that the program is particularly difficult, and it won’t win him a spot in the men’s free skate in a couple of days, but it’s almost perfect. Even Yurio can’t critique too much, and something warms in Yuuri’s chest. Phichit deserves this, he worked _so hard_ for this.

The moment that Phichit sits down in the kiss and cry, Yuuri’s on his feet, startling Yurio.“I gotta text him.”

“Whatever.” Yurio waves him off, even though a frown spreads across his face. “Get back here when you’re done.”

“Are you going to miss me, Yurio?”

Yurio tsks, even as a splotchy blush spreads across his cheeks. “You’re good at being brutal while watching, don’t let it get to your head.”

Yuuri ruffles Yurio’s hair as he walks past him, barely avoiding the retaliatory smack that Yurio aims his way like a grumpy kitten. He nods to Mari and waves at his dad as he makes his way upstairs, and it’s almost normal now, to be back here—even if it doesn’t quite feel like home again.

He makes his way to his room, avoiding really looking at his walls before grabbing underneath his bed where he’s pretty sure his phone fell when he abandoned it. He barely resists the urge to pace the tiny space as he waits for the phone to boot up, instead fidgeting and tapping before it _finally_ lets him clear his lockscreen and… oh no. There are _so many_ notifications. Not just from Phichit, but from Yuuko, and Minako, and even Celestino? And even more than that and… and Yuuri can get to that later.

He swipes the notifications clear as quick as he can before opening Phichit’s messages with him and typing out a quick, awkward message.

Yuuri:

Phichit! Your performance was amazing!

Phichit:

YUURI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You’re finally alive!!!

Yuuri jumps back a bit. He thought Phichit would be swept up into the chaos of everything—but he’d at least have his phone out for a selfie. Yuuri’s been gone less than a month and he’s underestimated Phichit’s social media addicted nature already, shame on him.

Yuuri:

Sorry

I should’ve texted you sooner

It’s just been rough

But seriously you were beautiful out there Phichit!!!

Phichit:

I know I know

But did you see Victor’s skate?

Yuuri:

No I didn’t start watching in time

And tbh I don’t know if I want to?

I will. You know I always watch him. But…

Phichit:

Oh man

Don’t

Just trust me on this one

And make sure you watch his free ok

Yuuri:

But I promised him that I would watch him

Phichit:

Well, just

Wait until after the competition

Then watch

You’ll keep your promise that way

Yuuri:

Um

Why?

Phichit:

You haven’t talked to him, right?

Yuuri:

Not exactly?

Phichit:

Okay WHAT does that MEAN

Yuuri:

Yuri Plisetsky might be here?

As, like, Victors avenging angel or something?

And I don’t think he’s told Victor anything, he’s barely told me anything about Victor but

I’m still a little confused

Phichit:

Yuri Plisetsky

That kid that tore you in half in a bathroom stall?

Yuuri:

I mean

Yeah

Him

Phichit:

I don’t believe you, give me PICTURES

Yuuri:

He’s in another room

Phichit:

You say that like I care

A small smile spreads across Yuuri’s face. He _missed_ this.

He gets up and heads back downstairs at a bit of a slower pace, but not by much. Yurio barely gives him a grunt of acknowledgment as Yuuri settles back in next to him, but he immediately starts up his commentary again, giving Yuuri a chance to stealthily take his picture.

Yuuri:

[Yurio.jpg]

He’s watching with me?

Phichit:

Wtf

Okay, well

I don’t know what’s even going on anymore

Yuuri:

Me neither

Is Victor ok???

He’s in third

THIRD

Did he injure himself?

Why is it so important I watch the free but can’t watch his short???

Phichit:

You’ll see

Or I hope you will

Gotta go! I might not have made it to the free, but the press waits for no one

Don’t worry, I’ll get more details to you later ;)

Yuuri:

Good luck!

“Hey.” Yurio elbows him. “Quit hanging out on your phone and start watching.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuuri goes to put his phone down, but then Yurio snatches it from him.

“Wait.” Yurio shoves it back at him. “Give me your number.”

Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “I thought you said that we should pay attention?”

“Oh stop being a dick. I can get you pictures of Vitya while he’s getting ready, you know. But I need your number for that.”

Yuuri freezes, trying to resist the urge to shove his phone into Yurio’s hands. “Isn’t that creepy?”

“Isn’t having a hundred posters of him all over your walls creepy?”

“How did you—?”

Yurio smirks. “I have my ways. Anyway, give me your number. You aren’t getting out of watching while I’m not here. Stammi Vicino is… important. I think.”

It is. It’s immeasurably important to Yuuri, as Yurio probably knows with how much he skates it. But if it also means just as much to Vitya, well…

It’s not like he was going to refuse Yurio in the first place, anyway. He may have thought the kid was too much to handle at first, but Yurio’s just a teenager. And he’s not bad, either. He gushes over Yuuri’s Mom’s cooking, he skates with the triplets, he rants with Yuuko about skating politics.

Yuuri likes having him around, and it’s a shame that he’s going to have to go back to Russia in a few days.

So he opens a new contact for Yurio to put his information into, texts him, and gets back to watching Worlds.

Eventually, Minako comes in and joins them, and she and Yurio get into it over judge scores and what went over well artistically. Yuuri thinks he might have to jump between them a couple of times, but Minako knows better than to brawl with a kid. Thankfully she isn’t drunk—_then_ Yuuri wouldn’t know what to expect.

Still, it’s only a matter of time before everything wraps up. Victor’s still in third, and Yuuri’s just barely resisting the urge to pick up his phone and see what kind of performance it was that dropped _the_ Victor Nikiforov down from first place for once. Every once in awhile he has an off day and gets second in his short, but _third_?

Yuuri trusts Phichit over his own curiosity, though. He’ll keep his promise, and he’ll watch—but Phichit has to have a good reason.

Yurio finally leaves after getting an explicit promise from Yuuri that he’ll be watching, and then things settle back down into their usual quiet state. 

The chores just seem to be piling up, and Yuuri spends the rest of his day finishing as many as he can before passing out—at least until the nightmares start.

Tonight in the darkness of Yuuri’s mind, it’s frigid and snowing and icy and it _hurts_. He aches. He’s alone. It feels wrong, everything feels wrong in a way that he’s not sure has ever felt right. Yuuri sobs and someone else’s voice echoes him and—

Yuuri’s woken up by Minako in the morning, who apparently thinks that he’s been lazing around too much and runs him through drills all morning. And it’s _hard_ to focus with the flashes of Vitya at his periphery, which of course he can’t tell Minako about without sounding crazy. Honestly, Minako would probably put him right on the train to Tokyo, with no ticket to Worlds, and tell him to “work it out, you’re Japan’s ace.”

So, no. Yuuri forces his way through that training, then visits Vicchan, then goes back to the onsen to do more chores, and then it’s the next day. It’s _the_ day.

Mari keeps him blessedly busy throughout the morning of the free programs, almost like she knows—

Wait.

“Mari?” Yuuri calls out, chasing down a hallway after her. “Have you been talking to Phichit?”

She smirks at him. “I’ve been talking to Phichit _and_ Yurio.”

Yuuri sighs, but he can’t help a small, confused smile. It’s crazy how many people are looking out for him, and he doesn’t understand _why_. “I’m going to watch, you know.”

“Are you?” It sounds like it could be teasing, like it _should_ be teasing. But it’s not quite there with the concerned crease between her eyebrows. “Because you’ve been running away for a while, little bro.”

Yuuri winces, even though it’s true. “I… yeah. But I’m done. It’s scary, I guess, but I just… I’m tired of hurting people because I’m being too selfish.”

“Being afraid isn’t always selfish.”

Yuuri gives a humorless smile. “Yeah. But I really have been both. And… I don’t know how to make it better, but I promised Yurio and… V-Victor, both of them, that I’d watch Worlds. So I’m going to.”

Mari gives a grin. “Knew you had it in you. Fine then, I guess I’ll get some work done today instead of making you do it all. Go get ‘im, tiger.”

“I’m not—” Well, he’s not getting Victor right now, but isn’t that the plan? To do his best to make things better? Of course he doesn’t know how yet, but he _does_ know that keeping his promise is the right thing to do. The first step in the right direction.

Yuuri returns her grin. “Yeah. I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But WILL he? ouo (Jk, we aren't backing away from progress after *waves vaguely* all of that)
> 
> As always, [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) are amazing betas/alphas!!! <3 And thank you all so, so much for reading! The next chapter... will certainly be something ;)
> 
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	15. Fifteen

Yuuri settles down in the dining hall of the onsen just like he did a couple of days ago, but this time he’s alone. He thought that Minako was stopping by, but if Mari’s trying to make sure he doesn’t run instead of leaving it to Minako to strong-arm him, maybe she set it up so he’d be alone. If she’s not here, Minako won’t ask the uncomfortable questions that might push him away and out of the room.

It’s almost too easy. He doesn’t even have to fight for the remote, the black, ominous, rectangular device sitting out on a table and waiting for him.

With a deep breath, he sits down and stares at the TV for a moment.

He’s just watching Victor skate. This isn’t a big deal. He’s done this his entire life, from Hasetsu to Detroit and everywhere between. He’d sometimes watch Victor’s performances before his own competitions, all across the globe. This is normal, this is the same as ever.

Except… that’s a lie. And last time that Yuuri lied to himself like this, it lead to something horrible that he might not ever be able to fix. 

So no, it’s not the same as ever. This is different because it’s important to Victor—or _was_ important to him, at least. Regardless of how Yuuri’s stomach turns to knots at the thought of watching him now, he has to. Not because it’s something he’s always done for himself, but because it’s something he’s doing for Victor. This routine won’t have any answers, nothing magical’s going to happen when he watches—well, aside from Victor’s breathtaking skating.

Even if part of him wants it to be the perfect answer to everything, he knows better.

But he also knows that this is the last connection that he has to Victor. After this, there are no promises between them, nothing but unsaid apologies and guilt and…

Yuuri has to do this. He has to see what Victor looks like, he has to see why he wanted Yuuri to watch the program.

He owes it to Vitya.

Yuuri reaches out to grab the remote—

And his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He takes it out without even thinking about it, smiling a little when he catches the name on the incoming message: Yurio.

Yakov’s been keeping him busy, or maybe he’s just not much of a texter, but either way Yuuri hasn’t heard much from him over the past day. He makes quick work of opening the message up.

It’s a picture.

Yuuri’s breath stutters.

It’s Victor, standing somewhere in the skater’s area, the rink not in sight. He has his red and white Olympic Russian jacket on, the edges of his pink coat for his Stammi Vicino costume peeking out from beneath it, black pants only beginning before the picture clips it off. And his face… well, he’s obviously wearing makeup. If Yuuri were any ordinary fan, he’d say that Victor’s confident, focused, ready.

But Yuuri knows enough to say that he’s not an ordinary fan.

He spent weeks in Victor’s presence, seeing him with little to no makeup, seeing him sleeping well and not, seeing him pouty or angry or sad or happy.

Yurio was right when he said that Victor was tired. His eyes droop a little, and there are bags that makeup can only do so much to hide, if you know where to look. His lips are pressed together too finely, not quite like he’s angry but like…. He’s holding something back.

Like he’s holding something in.

And Yuuri… he’s definitely seen that expression before. On himself, in fact.

Oh, Yuuri screwed up _so much_.

It takes him a solid minute before he realizes that a few more messages have buzzed in while he’s been staring. He hesitates just a moment before saving the picture—he doesn’t know why considering Victor’s obviously not happy, but it’s _Vitya_—before scrolling down.

Yurio:

i meant to send you more, sry

it was bsy yesterday 

ill make up for it or whatever

if u want

are u watching?

Yuuri:

I just sat down when you messaged

Tv’s not on yet

Yurio:

then fucking do it

now

Yuuri huffs out a small laugh, even as he reaches out and takes the remote—set to the right channel already, of course.

Yuuri purposefully kept himself busy until towards the end, knowing that Victor will be in the last group. It looks like there’s still a little while to go, but not much longer.

Yuuri:

It’s on

He takes a picture of the TV and sends it, just to make sure there’s no doubt. Not that Yurio’s exactly seen the best of Yuuri’s avoidance tactics, but considering his nagging level he’s either used to dealing with people avoiding things, or he likes to make sure things are constantly going his way. Or something else entirely, who knows. Yuuri needs to stop assuming, but his brain just doesn’t _stop_ sometimes.

His phone buzzes in his hand again, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Yurio:

good

wow this guy has shit spins

how the fuck did he get this far

Yuuri gives a shaky little smile at his phone, countering that they aren’t that bad, but could definitely be faster. He’s not sure Yurio’s doing it on purpose but it’s nice having something that’s not Victor to focus on.

They pick apart everyone’s skates like they did just the other day together, but otherwise it’s pretty quiet. It probably should be busier, considering the time of day, and Yuuri doesn’t want to think about what this means for the onsen, but he can’t really help it.

Yurio draws him back into Worlds again though, the skaters flying by until the announcer comes on and introduces the skater that everyone’s been waiting for.

Victor Nikiforov.

Vitya.

He’s beautiful. Yuuri knows this, he knew it for years and years before this. Vitya was a pretty child, and Yuuri remembers staring at him the same way that you would a flower, or an intricate painting. And then when Yuuri first saw Victor Nikiforov gliding across the TV screen, he finally understood that he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

And now that he knows Victor, the person that he is, silliness, drama, kindness and all, he’s somehow even more gorgeous. Yuuri can’t explain it, but when he sees Victor now, moving and breathing and real, something in him warms, lighting up and threatening to burst through at the seams.

Even if Victor’s obviously tired, and… and something else, too.

He puts on an excellent front, smiling and waving and doing a couple of quick laps around the rink before taking center ice. If this were Yuuri a year ago, he might have noticed something off, but not enough to worry him.

Now, though? Victor’s movements have a weight to them that they didn’t have before—or at least weren’t there while Victor was with Yuuri. His smile is strained and nowhere even remotely near the giant, heart-shaped grin that Victor wears when he’s actually happy about something. And he can’t see as much detail now on the TV screen as he could from Yurio’s picture, but he knows the exhaustion lacing through his frame, and it’s no different in how he moves.

Yuuri can understand why Phichit didn’t want him to watch yesterday’s performance, if this means what he thinks it does. If this is because of Yuuri, if he’s the one that caused this, how is he supposed to deal with that?

Yuuri still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that he might have affected Victor so deeply.

But… between Yurio, and the short program yesterday, and the face Victor made when Yuuri told him to leave—

Yuuri sucks in a breath, something hard and sharp lodging into his chest.

What has he _done_?

Movement draws his gaze toward the screen again as Victor takes his opening pose. Yuuri holds his breath for just a moment before the low and lonely opening notes of Stammi Vicino begin to ring through the speakers and Victor sweeps into motion.

Victor’s skates are always a revelation. No matter how many times Yuuri’s seen Victor perform the same routine, he always manages to change things up enough to surprise Yuuri, to change the story that his skate tells each time.

This skate isn’t different—and yet it completely is.

It’s almost like the story of the skate has been scrubbed away, and all that’s left is the _emotion_ of it. The heaviness of Victor’s fatigue turns into the overwhelming weight of sadness and isolation, every reach of his arm grasping for something just out of sight, and his face—

His face.

Victor doesn’t always let emotions play out across his face that much while skating, the movements taking center stage for his routines. And that’s enough for a mastermind like Victor Nikiforov.

But today he frowns, he squeezes his eyes shut, he… Victor looks like he’s going to cry.

What little Yuuri’s heard of Minako’s opinions of Victor’s routines this year is that it’s too pure and innocent for someone like Victor Nikiforov, one of the world’s topmost playboys. But Minako never saw Victor make dumb jokes, never had him go out of his way to buy ridiculous pizza for her, never felt the slight shake in Victor’s arms as he clutches to someone, like—

Like he doesn’t feel another person’s touch that often.

Yuuri doesn’t think that Minako could find any flaw with the execution of this routine, though. If anyone thinks that Victor’s faking the emotion of the performance here, they’re wrong.

He’s not faking anything.

And he’s not angry, he’s not indifferent, he’s not skating this routine for the world at large.

This is definitely for Yuuri.

The music rises, Victor fitting in his final jumps as everything rises to a crescendo, and he spins and wraps his arms around himself desperately, as if he could offer himself the comfort that he needs and then—then the camera’s come in closer and Victor _is_ crying.

But the pose drops, and so does the sadness, locked up wherever it is that Victor stores it, a fake grin plastered across his face, and Yuuri gives a choked gasp, belatedly realizing that he’s crying, too.

No. He can’t have done this to Victor—but he did? He did.

He—he absolutely did. He wants to reach through the TV screen, to grab ahold of Victor and tell him that he’s sorry, he’s so, so sorry.

But he can’t. He watches Victor sit at the kiss and cry, and even Yakov isn’t yelling at him like he always does. He’s looking at Victor like he grew another head, in fact. And Yuuri doesn’t blame him, that was…

Apparently enough to earn Victor a new world record.

Victor waves and smiles as the announcer practically screams into the microphone, but there’s no light behind those blue eyes. The crinkles around his eyes that pop out when there’s a real smile are completely missing.

Yuuri chokes on a sob, trying not to disturb anyone in the room with him—though it’s probably a little late for that.

Why is he like this? Why did he have to chase Victor away, why hasn’t he done anything about it?

A small voice in his head points out there’s very little he could have done that would be all right or appropriate with everything that went down, and knows that it would take more than a quick message on Instagram to make this okay—especially with that fake smile plastered across Victor’s face.

But he can’t listen to that right now.

All he can hear is the rushing of blood in his ears, and all he can feel is the dark, cold pit of dread and fear growing in his stomach.

Yuuri watched.

Yuuri knows.

But does that make it all better, or worse?

Yuuri’s phone buzzes in his hand, the first message that he got since Victor went on.

Yurio:

do u see what i mean about Vitya

hes a piece of shit sometimes, but theres something wrong

u need to fix it

Yuuri swallows, and even though he _knows_, he has to ask:

Yuuri:

And you’re sure it’s because of me?

Yurio:

it’s related to u at least

he stopped talking about you

and the magic between you guys is

weird

dont ask me to describe it im not a fairy godmother

but it’s too fucking strong and too backed up

and it’s getting worse

for both of you

Yuuri frowns at the screen. He knows it’s worse for Victor, but for him… the dreams, maybe? And the flashes of silver and blue—

Which… aren’t happening right now. For the first time in days, there aren’t flashes in the corner of his vision.

But what does that mean? Maybe…

Yuuri:

How does it affect both of us?

Yurio:

dont even pretend like u dont know

ive seen you these past few days

both of u r fucked up

Yuuri:

Then how do I fix it?

Yurio:

im 15 years old im not some crystal ball

figure out your old fart drama on your own

Yuuri winces. Yeah, okay, maybe asking a kid that question wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had, even if Yurio seems to know a lot about this stuff. Yuuri doesn’t know a thing about magic—but this isn’t really about magic, is it?

Yuuri:

I will

Yurio:

good

Yuuri clicks out of his chat with Yurio, instead moving onto Phichit who’s been chatting with him on and off since yesterday, but… It’s not that Yuuri even has anything to tell him that Phichit doesn’t already know. Phichit’s probably still off mingling with skaters and interviewers and even sponsors too, so it’s not like he has time to brainstorm with Yuuri about what to do right now.

Besides, Yuuri needs to think. There’s still no point in traveling to Tokyo, even if he or anyone in his small town could afford to send him. He won’t find out what hotel room Victor’s staying in, and he certainly won’t be able to crash the banquet. Though, now that he thinks about it, Phichit would probably help him out…

But he still has to get to Vitya.

Maybe he could work hard enough at the onsen and save up enough to travel to Russia? But that would be months. And—

And Victor could retire.

Yuuri’s breath catches in his chest.

Vitya had hinted at it, early on. And he said he’d keep skating for Yuuri, for him to watch. But he doesn’t know if Yuuri’s watching. And he obviously didn’t enjoy that skate. What if Yuuri ruined skating for Victor, on top of everything else?

No, Yuuri has to do something now. If only he could get to Tokyo and find Vitya there…

Well. Yurio could probably get him to Tokyo. Yuuri doesn’t want to ask more from Yurio than he already has, but he was able to move them both from the ice rink to the onsen pretty easily. And Yurio might know where Victor’s hotel room is, and—

Oh, that would be so creepy though. But It’s all he can think of.

Yuuri rubs at his forehead, feeling a headache building from all of the tears. He should get up and get a drink of water, but… If only there was a simpler option. If only Victor would just pop back into his life, if only Yuuri could just take it back.

Yuuri sits up a little straighter.

_Can_ he take it back?

They’d stopped seeing each other one time before now, when they were kids—but that was because everyone around them was encouraging them to grow up from their imaginary friends. Victor stopped interacting with him and just… faded away.

And this time Yuuri told him to go, and Victor did. And Yuuri’s been, well, _afraid_ of Victor coming back, if he’s being honest. When Victor’s in Russia and Yuuri’s here, he’ll typically show up late in the night—early morning, at that point. And what would Yuuri do if he woke up and found Vitya there? It’s a thought he’s shied away from this whole time, but…

But what happens if Yuuri tells Victor to come back? If he _wants_ him back? Because he does. He really, really needs to see Victor, even if he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he does see Victor.

It’s simpler than trying to get Yurio’s help, and it doesn’t drag the fifteen year old into it any more than he already is. And if Victor really doesn’t want to come back, it seems like he won’t, if Yuuri understands their soulmate bond right. 

He has to at least try it. If it doesn’t work, he’ll fall back onto another plan, but he’s going to do it. He’s going to try and get Victor back.

“Yuuri?” Hiroko walks into the room, a gentle smile on her face. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri nods, trying to give her a small smile in return—hopefully she didn’t see any of, well, what he just went through. “Yeah.” He will be.

Her grin grows a little, and she pats Yuuri on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s have our dinner now that your skating show is over.”

Yuuri’s smile becomes more earnest—some things never change, and Hiroko and Toshiya have never been the best at skating terminology, even if they’re the most supportive people Yuuri’s ever known—before he gets up and follows her to dinner.

Time crawls by achingly slow, the conversation at the table never pulling Yuuri in completely. And that only takes so long before they’re done, and then Yuuri’s in his room, alone and waiting. He texts back and forth with Yurio and Phichit for a while. Yurio says that, yeah, he could probably take Yuuri to Tokyo if he tried really hard. The catch would be getting away from Yakov long enough to grab Yuuri without getting caught, and Victor’s been reclusive enough that Yurio doesn’t even know what room Victor’s staying in. Tracking him down might end up being a nightmare.

Which means almost everything rides on this plan.

Great.

His mind begins to wander as the hours grow later and later, darkness creeping into his room. Yuuri doesn’t even bother to move from where he’s collapsed on the bed to turn on the light. He’s almost afraid to see his room totally empty, without anyone else here. At least in the dark he can pretend that there’s something in the shadows, even if it’s unlikely at best.

Victor has to be exhausted, right? He has to be asleep by now, competitions are exhausting. Unless Yuuri doesn’t want him here enough? But Yuuri’s not sure that he could want anything more. The pain of knowing there’s so much to do or say to Victor to make up for everything eats a hole away in his chest, an ache that pours with every heartbeat. He’s got to do something, he has to make this better.

He _needs_ Victor— Well, no, that’s not true. He can survive without Victor. He can fade away into obscurity and live the rest of his life here with his family and be just fine. Having someone no longer in your life always hurts. Yuuri knows this, and he has experience getting over it. When he’d moved, when he’d made friends that inevitably move on from him when his anxiety is too much—and he doesn’t blame them. He knows he can lash out, and that he does things he can’t think through even though he should.

When a rink mate had been injured in Detroit, a mutual friend had tried to hug him and he just… shoved them away. He couldn’t handle the comfort, he couldn’t handle being weak. It was such a dumb thing to do in retrospect, but he can’t take it back, and it drove a wedge into their relationship.

But it hasn’t hit him as bad as it has been these past few months in years, and Yuuri has pushed Victor too hard, he knows this.

But he wants Victor. He wants his clingy hugs and ridiculous dramatics and that dorky smile. He wants to give Victor a reason to smile more, not more motivation for whatever that performance was. He wants to have Victor meet Vicchan and Yuuko and the triplets and his family. He wants… he _wants_.

The question is: can he have it? Does he _deserve_ it?

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut against the almost dark, focusing on breathing. He can do better. He will do better. He just needs a chance. And he understands if Vitya doesn’t want to give that to him.

He sucks in a deep breath—then freeze, as the air in the room seems to shift.

“Yuuri?” a voice breathes, so soft and so broken that if he weren’t in the absolute silence of his bedroom, Yuuri would never have heard it.

It takes Yuuri a second to dare open his eyes, to dare to hope, but when he does, he sucks in a breath.

It’s Victor.

It’s Vitya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yurio is edgy enough to turn off the capitalization on his phone, fight me.
> 
> And it's TIME. He's BACK!!!
> 
> As always, bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for having my back with this mess of a fic! And thank YOU guys for putting up with me dragging you through that long, Victor-less void. I promise things will pick up from here ;)
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	16. Sixteen

All Yuuri can do for a long moment is stare.

It can’t be that simple. Victor shouldn’t be standing in front of him, black sleep pants hanging loosely off his hips. Yuuri has a vague thought that Victor should put on some weight, then wonders how he became so much like his mom. Victor’s hair is disheveled, eyes wide like he can’t believe any of this is happening, either.

None of this should be so easy.

So much time has passed, so many scenarios were played out and picked apart in Yuuri’s brain, so many options considered and all Yuuri had to do in the end was want Victor?

How the hell had he gone most his entire life so far without Victor constantly there, then?

Not that it really matters since Victor’s here now. Seeing him through screens is nothing compared to having him _here_, in person. Yuuri reaches out a bit, to touch and make sure that Victor’s real—but he catches himself and pulls back.

He doesn’t know what Victor wants, or what he’s okay with. They have a lot to talk about, a lot that Yuuri needs to say.

But how the hell does he start?

Victor lets out a breath after Yuuri pulls back, looking away. “I-I’m sorry, Yuuri, I didn’t mean to come here. I can go, or you can… you know.”

“No!” Yuuri scrambles to his feet but still hesitates to close the distance between them—even if it’s a foot or two in his tiny room. It honestly isn’t much bigger than what he had in Detroit. “I… Please don’t go.”

Victor blinks, then slowly turns back to Yuuri. “What?” He breathes, as if he’s afraid to know the answer.

“I…” Yuuri clears his throat, looking at the ground. He should meet Victor’s eyes while he talks, but he can’t. Shame burns behind his eyes and in his throat, and he’s not sure he can get the words out if he looks up at him. “I saw your performance at Worlds.”

“Ah.” Victor almost seems to droop out of the corner of Yuuri’s eye. “You saw that dreadful performance of my short, then.”

“Ah, no, actually.” Yuuri reaches up, scratching the back of his head. “Yurio was here, and I was distracted, and I… I kind of forgot when Worlds was? But Yurio is the one who pointed it out and made sure I watched your free.”

There’s a stretch of quiet for a long moment, Yuuri’s heart nearly beating out of his chest before Victor asks, “Yurio?”

“Ah.” Yuuri glances up at Victor, at the little wrinkle forming between his brows. “Yuri. Yuri Plisetsky. Mari, my sister—wait, you know Mari, of course you do. Well, she said that having two Yuris around is confusing, so she gave Yurio that nickname. And it stuck.”

Victor just stares at him for a long moment. “Yura was here? Why?”

Oh no. Yurio’s never mentioned it to Victor? _Why_? Does Yakov even know the truth of what Yurio’s been up to? “Um, he was… worried about you. And he figured out it had something to do with me. And his transportation magic definitely helped.”

It’s Victor’s turn to look away now, glancing out at the faint light seeping in through the cracks in Yuuri’s curtains, dusting across the mussed sheets of his bed. “He… Yura wouldn’t do that.”

Yuuri almost reaches out to touch Victor again, but catches himself again—it’s wrong to be around Victor for so long without being hugged at least three times, but Yuuri will respect whatever boundaries Victor sets.

It’s so obvious to Yuuri that Yurio loves Victor in a weird, angry, brotherly sort of way. He just shows all of his emotions aggressively. He’s close to Yuuko because they bonded over chewing out the ISU together. He gets along with Mari by snarking back and forth. The triplets howl with laughter at him losing his cool about ridiculous stuff all the time, but Yuuri sees the way that Yurio grins softly when their backs are turned.

Maybe Yuuri’s reading too much into it, but doesn’t he do the same with Yuuri, too? He aggressively encourages Yuuri to get better, to push past his limits with anxiety and skating. He doesn’t put up with Yuuri’s bullshit, and they had fun critiquing skating together just this evening—or, at least, Yuuri enjoyed it.

Which makes it all the more obvious that he cares for Victor, maybe more than anyone else. He came to Worlds not to check out the competition for his switch into seniors this year, but to hunt down Yuuri and make Victor happy again. If he wanted to watch other skaters, if he wanted to learn, he would never have left Tokyo. He was practically ready to strangle Yuuri when he got here—and that was for Victor. All of it.

“He cares about you,” Yuuri says with as much firmness and sincerity as he can manage. “He wanted you to be happy again, so he came here every single day, and then he nearly stole my phone so that he could keep making sure that I…” That he apologized, that he followed through. Something he _still_ has to do.

Victor gives a faint smile, his gaze is still distant. “Yura wants to compete against me in my top form next year, I don’t think that he wanted much more than that. He’s quite… passionate though, isn’t he?”

Yuuri’s mouth pops open a little. “He is passionate. About making sure that you’re okay. He barely even mentioned your skating.”

“Other than to insult how I’ve been skating lately, I’m sure.” Victor sighs, then looks sideways at Yuuri. “I’m surprised you got away with calling him Yurio. He has to hate it. Maybe I’ll tease him with it.”

Yuuri almost pushes the subject, not caring if it makes Victor angry—he’d be happy if it did. He can’t stand whatever this dull, dry tone is that Victor’s taken. But that wouldn’t help. It would just be avoiding what they need to talk about right now—Yuuri can and will convince him that Yurio cares later. Maybe he’ll even get Yurio to admit it, even if there will inevitably be a few insults thrown in there, too.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, shoulders rising as he braces himself. “About your free skate…”

That gets all of Victor’s attention back onto him. “What about it?”

His tone isn’t defensive—if anything, he sounds eager. But Yuuri still winces. “Um. A while ago you told me to watch your skates at Worlds, that… that you’d skate them for me. And I just… I want to make sure that’s still what you meant. That they were, um. For me. Yeah.”

“They were,” Victor answers, slowly and carefully, almost as if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Yuuri sucks in a sharp breath. He knew it, of course he did, but it’s still hard to _believe_. He made Victor feel that much, that deeply. He… he _hurt_ Victor. “I-I’m so sorry. For everything, I just—”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Victor interrupts, voice still carefully bland even if something shines in his eyes. “You told me not to do what I went and did, specifically. I could have—_should_ have, done something else. Or nothing else. I knew that you didn’t want that, and I did it anyway, and—”

And Yuuri didn’t want it, Yuuri was terrified of it. He was hurting and grieving and it was the final straw that took his battered, bleeding heart and shattered it.

But if Yuuri’s being entirely honest, it reset the break, it knocked him out of his spiral. He would’ve gotten there on his own eventually, but when? Months from now? A year from now? Yeah, maybe they need to have a talk about when Victor should push and when he shouldn’t—but they can’t if they don’t stop playing the blame game.

“Victor.” Finally, Yuuri dares to reach out and take Victor’s hand in his own. His grasp is gentle, barely there, but something in him settles at the contact, at the feeling of such familiar skin against his own. “I… I pushed first when I posted that Instagram post.”

“But I shouldn’t have—”

“Maybe.” Yuuri gives him a small smile. “But I… I made that boundary, and I crossed it, and I know you, Vitya. You’re too enthusiastic to not do anything in return, and…” Maybe a part of Yuuri wanted to know—but he wasn’t ready yet.

It was choices they both made that got them here, but Yuuri knows he’s the one who put up the walls in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” Victor whispers, twisting his hand in Yuuri’s so that they can twine their fingers together. “You didn’t want me, and I kept pushing and coming back anyway, I’m sorry.”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide, and he just stares for a moment.

Victor… Vitya thinks he doesn’t want him? No. This… No. There are a lot of things in Yuuri’s life that he doesn’t want, that makes him uncomfortable and gives him the idea that crawling out of his own skin would be easier than putting up with them. But not Vitya. Never Vitya.

Vitya makes him feel like a plant turning toward the sun. Like he’s constantly surrounded in warmth and comfort. It’s terrifying, it’s too much and Yuuri’s just _Yuuri_ while Vitya is _Victor_, but Yuuri wouldn’t ever want him to stop being exactly that.

Yuuri tugs Victor forward, surprised for just a second that Victor follows his lead so easily before he takes Victor in his arms, determined to give him as much love and comfort that he’s given Yuuri.

“Victor, I want you here.”

Victor stays stiff and unyielding in his arms. “Yuuri, you don’t have to lie. I—” He clears his throat. “I remember what you said. You don’t have to feel bad for me, I understand. I’m a lot, I know.”

“You’re the _perfect_ amount.” Yuuri grasps him tighter, trying not to hurt Victor as a flame sparks and catches in the pit of his stomach. “I was overwhelmed, and I was hurt—but it wasn’t about _you_, Vitya.” Yuuri pulls back the tiniest bit, just enough to meet Victor’s eyes. “Do you want to know why you’re here right now?”

Victor’s trying to keep his face neutral, that much is obvious. But it’s not working. His lips are twitching, his eyes are too wide, and he’s blinking too much. This isn’t the polished Victor Nikiforov, and it’s not Yuuri’s Vitya—but he’s getting there. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Yuuri almost snorts. That’s the most avoidant answer he’s ever heard Victor give, and it’s not even remotely convincing. “You’re here because I sat there, in that bed, and thought about how much I wanted to see you again until you finally appeared.”

Victor’s face goes slack. “You… what?”

“I… I’ve been thinking about how to apologize. This entire time, I…” Yuuri swallows. “I’m sorry, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I don’t want you to leave. I never _want_ you to leave. I sent you away before because I was hurt and afraid, but I didn’t want you to go away forever. I want you to stay, if that’s what you want.”

“Yuuri.” Victor leans in so, so slowly, until his forehead is touching Yuuri’s. His breathing’s so shaky, his body quivering as he relaxes just slightly. “That’s all I want.”

Something warm and wet lands on Yuuri’s cheeks, and for a moment he’s wondering how he’s crying when he doesn’t even feel like he should be. And then Yuuri realizes that it’s _Vitya_ crying, and he tightens his arms around him even more.

Vitya shudders at the contact and then—oh, Victor’s weight falls on Yuuri and he definitely was _not_ prepared for that. He takes a couple of steps back, regaining his balance, before his legs hit the frame of the bed. Yuuri hesitates for just a moment, but Victor’s hanging on from such an awkward angle that’s going to tip them over before too long, and didn’t they share a bed constantly before, anyway?

Yuuri lowers them to the mattress and shifts them around to try and make it comfortable, Vitya’s head staying tucked beneath Yuuri’s chin. The moment they’ve settled, Vitya wraps around Yuuri and he can’t help but smile and hold Vitya in return.

He doesn’t know where exactly the two of them stand in their relationship right now, since being soulmates defines almost nothing between them—just that they’re important to each other. And Yuuri’s known that Victor was important to him since he was very small. But this moment? This is… nice. This is almost perfect.

Except for the fact that Vitya’s still crying.

Yuuri rubs his fingers in small, comforting circles along Victor’s back just like Hiroko used to do to him when he was young. She’d do it after he’d had a panic attack, while he was sobbing his eyes out, but settling back into his own mind. He’s not sure it’ll have the same effect, since this is very different—or at least, Yuuri thinks it is. He’s not sure what Victor’s feeling, he just hopes that this helps, and that Victor’s okay with this. They still haven’t talked about how he feels about… whatever they are, and whatever they want to be.

But Yuuri’s pretty sure it’s not time to ask that, yet. He’s not sure he’s really earned the right to ask that—he feels like he’s hardly been able to apologize since Victor keeps trying to own _everything,_ even though he’s not the one that screwed up in the first place.

“I-I’m sorry,” Victor manages to choke out. “It—I don’t know why I’m c-crying.”

“That’s okay.” Yuuri brings up one of his hands to cradle the back of Victor’s head and gently run his fingers through Victor’s hair. It’s so _soft_.

“No.” Victor nuzzles in impossibly closer to Yuuri. “It’s not.”

Yuuri frowns. “Yeah, it is. Sometimes I cry and I don’t really know why.” In fact, irrational thoughts are Yuuri’s specialty.

“But I—“ Victor cuts himself off, taking a few deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. Yuuri wishes he could see Victor’s face, but he doesn’t want to move, either. Not while Victor’s talking, not while he feels safe. “You already… You put up with a lot from me already without this. I’m sorry, I’ll…”

Yuuri pokes at the back of Victor’s head. “You put up with me freaking out about skating and Vicchan and, well, _everything_ for a longer time. You’re gonna have to work a lot harder if you want to top that.”

Victor huffs a silent laugh against Yuuri’s neck, and goosebumps spring to life across Yuuri’s skin. “This isn’t at all what it should’ve been like when we saw each other again.”

But how _else_ would this have played out? Life isn’t a romance movie, they need to work through this. There’s no running through fields of flowers and embracing each other when Yuuri pushed Victor away, and hurt him enough to skate Stammi Vicino like _that_. As far as them meeting again, well. Yuuri couldn’t have hoped for better, even if he wishes Vitya were happier.

“Well I think it’s perfect.” Yuuri shifts a little, holding Vitya a little more comfortably.

“That’s…” Vitya lets out a breath. “Yuuri, you really don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying.” Yuuri frowns. He keeps cycling back to that. And Yuuri’s lied to himself a _lot_, but he hasn’t lied to Vitya, at least never on purpose.

“Oh?” Victor shifts a little, his tone a little distant but his body saying something else entirely as he tangles their legs together. “You’re the one that didn’t want me to be real. You’re the one that wanted me to go. I don’t… I won’t be your burden.”

“You’re not a burden.” Yuuri holds Victor tighter. “I didn’t want you gone. When I said that, I just… You’ve always been so important to me. It mattered so much what you thought of me. You’ve always been a goal that I’ve reached for, and then Sochi… I was a mess. I didn’t want anyone seeing me like that. Especially not you.”

“But, why not?” Victor’s hand begins to move against Yuuri’s skin, making Yuuri’s eyes flutter shut. “I’m just me.”

“Exactly.” Yuuri frowns a little. “You’re Victor Nikiforov. The person I looked up to for years, the most accomplished figure skater that ever was. You’re beautiful and amazing and everything that I wanted to reach for. You have so much experience, you’ve seen the world, you’re one of the most well-known playboys out there, and I—“ He’s just Yuuri. A mess who accidentally hurts the people he loves, who’s inconsistent at best. It’s all he’s been it’s all he’ll ever be, and he only hopes that he can get well enough to not ever hurt Victor like this again.

“Is that what you want?” Victor clears his throat, his grip tightening just barely. “All of those things? From me?”

Yuuri blinks down at the top of his head. “I want _you_. I want all of that and everything else. I want…” But it isn’t about what Yuuri wants, it’s about who Vitya _is_. And Yuuri’s gotten to know him enough to have seen that. He’s different than what he’s seen, what the media says about him. He’s Victor Nikiforov, yeah, but he also laid on Walmart bathroom floor to comfort him, and when he smiles at Yuuri it’s different and more real than any photoshoot that Yuuri’s seen with him—and he’s seen a _lot_.

“Ah.” The sound is hollow as it leaves Victor’s mouth. “I’m… Yeah. I suppose I am that.”

“It’s not bad.” Yuuri clutches him tighter in return. “You just… you’re Victor Nikiforov and I’m…” But Victor knows what Yuuri is. He’s been around him for months, and somehow came back again. “If I didn’t want you back, I wouldn’t have tried to see if you could come back. You’re here because I _want_ you.”

Victor’s quiet for a long moment, and Yuuri lets him have his peace as his breathing calms and evens out.

It’s almost like… Victor isn’t used to being wanted? Which doesn’t make sense. Half the world’s population probably wants Victor in some way or another. If anything, Yuuri would think he’d be sick of it, not cling to it like he can’t get enough.

It doesn’t make sense, but a lot of things don’t make sense anymore, and the creeping warmth of exhaustion keeps his brain from running around that hamster wheel right now.

Victor may not be warm, but the weight of him is still a comfort in Yuuri’s arms. He knew he’d missed Victor, but _how much_ he missed him aches and stings.

“I’m happy you’re back,” Yuuri murmurs, voice a little rougher than even he expected. He’s just so _tired_. It’s almost too much to force the words out of his lungs.

“You haven’t slept much either, have you?” Victor’s voice is sharp, accusing—but Yuuri doesn’t miss the edge of worry there, too.

“M’fine,” Yuuri mumbles. “There’s just been… nightmares.”

“Oh.” Vitya stiffens in his arms. “Are they… were they cold? And dark?”

Yuuri shivers, but nods enough so that Vitya can feel it. “You had them too, huh?”

Vitya clutches him a little tighter, staying quiet for long enough that Yuuri might have thought he was asleep—but his body is already asleep, just somewhere else. But eventually, he speaks again, soft voice loud in the silence of the room. “Sleep. You don’t have to stay up for me.”

Yuuri huffs. “But I missed you.”

Victor smiles, Yuuri can feel it from where the corners of Victor’s lips are pressed against Yuuri’s skin. “I missed you, too. But… I’ll be here tomorrow? If you want?”

“Of course I want.” Yuuri snuggles in closer. “Silly.”

Victor lets out a shaky breath. “Okay. Then sleep.”

Yuuri doesn’t want to sleep. But between the nightmares, and Yurio, and helping out at the onsen… there’s not a chance he can resist it. Something nags at the back of his mind, but it could be any of the number of things they haven’t quite talked about yet—things they can’t talk about,when Yuuri’s like this.

So Yuuri lets himself drift off to the steady rising and falling of Victor’s chest, and the movement of Victor’s hand on his back, and _Victor_.

They’ll have tomorrow to work things out. And the next day, and the next day, and the next day…

If Yuuri had his way, they’d have forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that went well, didn’t it? Normally I'd say something like "Poor Victor needs some hugs," but luckily he's gettin all the hugs he could want, ye? :D
> 
> As always, thank you to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being general badasses! And thank you guys for sticking with me for this fic! We've still got a ways to go, I wonder what might happen next~?
> 
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	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Possible Trigger Warning (and spoiler, so skip if you aren’t worried about the tags):**
> 
> _Character injury this chapter! Neither permanent nor graphic, see the very end of the chapter for deets.*_

It really shouldn’t be a surprise to wake up and not have Victor laying beside him in the morning after all of those days in Detroit. But, as always, Yuuri reaches for Victor and finds the bed empty except for himself.

His breath hitches, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, shifting deeper into his blankets as his mind catches up with him. Of course Victor isn’t here, he hasn’t been here in a _long time_ and—

Oh. He went to sleep while holding Victor over the sheets, but now he’s tucked in?

Of all things, this shouldn’t make heat bloom in his cheeks, but it _does_. He’s seen Victor naked a _lot_, he’s fallen asleep with him almost every day in Detroit, he’s been such an embarrassing slob in front Victor, and so much worse than that, too. Being tucked in by him shouldn’t inspire this reaction. But it does.

Victor really shouldn’t be taking care of Yuuri, not when Yuuri still has so much to make up for.

Still, he lets himself enjoy the warmth of the bed for just another moment before he finally forces himself up and into the chilly room.

The very, _very_ chilly room. Hasetsu hasn’t warmed up too much since the cold snap, but _this_…

Yuuri jumps back onto his bed and yanks the curtains of his window open.

It’s snowing.

_Again_.

Not as bad as it was the first time, just a few flakes gently floating down, but it’s still more than Hasetsu ever sees this time of year. More than it sees any time of year.

That… isn’t good.

A rock settles into Yuuri’s stomach, and he doesn’t know _why_. He’s making things better with Victor, he’s trying _so hard_, even if it would be easier to crawl under his bed and not address any of this.

And Yurio said something about him and this whole soulmate thing affecting others, but they couldn’t change the weather, right? That’s too much.

Unless it isn’t?

Yuuri shakes his head, then digs through his clothes for the warmest things he owns, and heads downstairs to eat breakfast.

Apparently the weather has everyone baffled, it’s all his family talks about as they scarf down breakfast before the morning rush of customers hits. It should be around the time for the sakura to bud, but not so much anymore. People are apparently guessing that they won’t even blossom at all this year, but that’s absurd.

Yuuri tries to think about the why or the how of the weather suddenly changing, but nothing comes to mind. Instead, he follows Mari around and helps out with all the chores, almost upset she won’t let him do as much as yesterday.

“What? Was it a bad idea to make you watch that skating thing?” Mari raises an eyebrow as she hands over some towels to fold. “Phichit still seems to think it was a good idea.”

“No, it was… it was good. I think.” Yuuri frowns, digging into the pile with quick, practiced motions. There are some things you can never forget, and precisely folding hundreds of towels seems to be ingrained into his brain.

“Then why are you all nervous?”

“I’m not—”

“You’re keeping yourself busy, which is good. But you aren’t giving yourself a moment to catch your breath, and that says a lot.” She puts a hand on her hip, and her fingers twitch toward her cigarettes—but she knows better than to smoke in the guest areas. “What happened?”

“Um… I ended up working some stuff out. I think.” Yuuri frowns, placing a folded towel down and hesitating in grabbing the next. 

“You think?” Mari arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t… I don’t know. Something felt off.” Yuuri shrugs, grabbing the next towel.

Mari snatches it from his grip. “Nu-uh. Go skate.”

“W-what? But the Ice Castle is booked this morning—”

“Then go to Minako’s.”

“But—!”

“Nope! Sorry little brother.” She ruffles his hair before he can duck out of the way. “You need to work whatever this is out before you end up where you were before. It’s either go out, or sit here and twiddle your thumbs.”

Yuuri huffs, glaring at her like he’s in his teens again. “Fine, I guess.”

“Atta boy.” She grins. “And if you need help working anything out, remember that we’ve always got your back.”

“I…” His knee-jerk reaction is to deny it, to brush off the words and push past her, but… But his family doesn’t deserve that. They give him so much love, and the very least Yuuri can do is believe them. “I do.”

Mari smiles. “Good. Now, off you go, shoo.”

Yuuri grabs his things before leaving—including his skate bag since it has spare exercise clothes in it—and heads out into the snow. The cold bites right through his thick coat, a shiver spreading goosebumps along his skin. At least the snow isn’t falling that hard. But Hasetsu is so ill-equipped to handle any snow, so for them this is still… a _lot_.

Yuuri shakes his head, then begins to carefully pick his way over to Minako’s.

The path is one that Yuuri’s been traveling longer than the one he takes to Ice Castle. He first travelled it in his mother’s arms as she was taking him to have tea with her childhood friend, then with Mari as he began his very first lessons, and then on his own, as Minako was acting as his coach in his very first figure skating competitions. Yuuri knows it was hard for Minako to let him go to the ice instead of staying with ballet, but she can’t hold too much of a grudge; after all, she’s the one who brought him to the rink in the first place.

Yuuri digs in his coat for the spare key that he’s always had for Minako’s studio, begging and pleading in his head that she won’t be there. The door creaks open, a soft sound, but loud enough to make Yuuri wince.

It’s quiet and dark inside. Yuuri slips through the door as quickly as he can, taking off his boots and slinking over to the changing rooms in the back of the studio.

It’s familiar yet strange in the same exact way that stepping into the Ice Castle had been—which is weird, because he’s gotten used to most of the rest of Hasetsu since coming back from Detroit. But he set foot in this studio before he even had a remote interest in ice skating. This was the first place where he learned how to let his feelings _out_, instead of bottling them in. It’s another place he might have once considered home.

He was so ridiculous in thinking that Hasetsu was a place that he might not be able to call home anymore. Yes, it’s different and awkward in the strangest ways, but these places are as much a part of him as he is of them.

He doesn’t know if he wants to settle here yet—he doesn’t know a single thing about his future—but… Eventually, someday, he probably will. He can see why Minako did it.

With a sigh, he lifts his bag back up and steps back into the studio. He can’t put this off forever.

He steps through the doorway, and—

The lights glare to life, way too bright after the murky grey of the snow clouds outside.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” Minako beams, until her brow furrows. “Or is it afternoon? Well, that’s not important.”

The bag slips from Yuuri’s hand, and he briefly considers making a run for it before realizing that Minako would just tackle him down and keep him here. “W-Why are you here?”

She raises her eyebrows, smile coming back as a smirk. “This is my studio. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Um. I’m here to dance?” Yuuri tenses. Oh yeah, saying that like a question won’t give her _any _reason to think something’s wrong.

She narrows her eyes a bit, but only says, “Okay. Warm up, then. I haven’t been able to see what kind of shape you’re in since you got back.”

“I-I’m not in good shape.” Yuuri wraps his arms around himself, tugging his shirt down.

She waves a hand. “Oh, I remember. I saw you when you came home, and it was worse then. We’ll work on it—once you finally decide to go back to skating.”

Yuuri starts stretching, irritation beginning to thumb beneath his skin. “How do you know I’m going back to skating?”

She chuckles. “Yuuri, I think the only one who doesn’t know is _you_.”

Yuuri huffs out a breath, glancing at the ground. “I don’t know if…” Where does he even start? “It’s complicated.”

“It is.” She nods. “But you can figure it out. With us.”

How? How can _anyone _figure out what to do with the mess that is his skating career? He’s barely got a grasp on what’s going on with Vitya, much less anything else. But he knows better than to argue with Minako.

Instead, he takes the silence as his cue to start warming up—but nearly falls over when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Can I put your hair up?” Minako asks, smile evident in her voice. “It’s long enough to hang in your face while you practice.”

“Um, sure. Thank you.” Yuuri stands still while Minako works her hands through his messy hair. “I meant to cut it before I came back, but…”

“Hmm, I think it suits you, if you want to keep it.” She steps back. “Here, let me help with your stretches.”

Yuuri complies, falling into the familiar routine. It’s the same one that he’s had since he started at Minako’s studio, taking it with him when he started competitions nationally, and then carried with him to when he moved to America.

It’s nice. It’s familiar. It’s easy.

“So, when were you going to tell me Victor Nikiforov was your soulmate?”

Yuuri nearly keels over, but Minako catches him.

She laughs. “Oh come on, you really expected me not to know?”

Yuuri splutters for a moment. He’s hardly told anyone. Only Phichit and Mari know. “Well, _yeah_.”

She just rolls her eyes.

“How?” Yuuri manages to get out. Does everyone know? Is it in the news? He’s been avoiding things for so long, who knows what leaked. At least he knows it wasn’t Victor. He screwed up and crossed boundaries before, sure, but not to the extreme of telling the news that they’re soulmates. Yuuri can’t be sure of a lot of things, but he _is _sure that Victor would never do something like that.

Minako scoffs. “Sometimes you seem to forget I’m a witch.”

“Yeah, but you said you’re not _that_ kind of witch.” He used to worry about what she could do to him as a kid, what she could see and what she _knew. _That was before he knew that non-soulmate sorts of magic weren’t typically as frightening or powerful, but he _does_ specifically remember her saying she couldn’t read his mind.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not. And you won’t distract me.”

“I…” Every single muscle of Yuuri’s that they’d been trying to relax tenses right back up. “I didn’t know. Or, I told myself I didn’t know, and I screwed up, and I didn’t know if he’d still want to be my soulmate, after…”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Minako wraps an arm carefully around his waist and lowers them to the floor until they’re sitting side by side. “What happened?”

Yuuri huffs out a breath. He could keep it all to himself, keep hiding away everything until it’s far too late, but what’s the point?Talking things out with Phichit helped so, so much. Mari knowing is a relief, to know that the weight isn’t his to bear alone. Yurio knows, and apparently Victor wasn’t quiet about it in his home rink.

He’s ashamed of what he’s done and how he’s handled everything. But it’s his story to share if he wants to. And… even if Minako can be a lot at times, he does trust her. He wants her to know. He’s not sure where Victor stands, but maybe, someday, he wouldn’t mind telling the world that they’re soulmates. Maybe they could stand next to each other and Yuuri won’t feel ashamed of who he is.

But in front of Minako, he’s not afraid.

So he opens his mouth, and he tells her.

He starts at Sochi, explaining how he met Yurio, and the commemorative photo, and the overwhelming shame. The numbing, awful horror that was Nationals, that funneled him right into finals, a little later in the year because of his competitions. And then _Victor Nikiforov_ shows up, and everything changes, except Yuuri.

He might conveniently leave the nakedness part out of the story, but he tells her all of the rest, even when he knows _now_ that he made some terrible choices with a very real person.

Then he sent Victor away, and he left, and Yurio _came_—but Minako knows that. And then last night, where they made up… or it _seems_ like they made up, but there’s a shrieking alarm bell ringing in Yuuri’s gut, and he _doesn’t know what to do_.

Minako just watches him the whole time, quiet other than for a few questions, a furrow of concentration on her brow.

But when he’s done, when everything’s laid bare, she does finally speak: “Why the hell aren’t you in Tokyo?”

Yuuri sighs. He _knew_ she would say that. “I might be Japan’s Ace, but no one wants me there. I couldn’t sneak into the rink, I couldn’t find Victor’s room without help, and Yurio doesn’t know as much as you’d think he would. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money—well. Their time, at least.”

Minako sighs. “Fine, do it the difficult way. If you ask me, though—”

The door creaks softly, and Yuuri turns in time to see a small girl poking in her head, her eyes wide. “Um.”

“Oh! Yes, I came in here for my class, it starts in a few minutes, come on in Izumi.” Minako waves the kid in, a small trickle of children following the first like ducklings, before she turns back to Yuuri. “You can take the back of the studio, if you want. Or you could help out?”

Yuuri grimaces. He’s skated in front of hundreds of people, dozens of times, but somehow smaller audiences are worse. Even when they’re kids. He knows that it’s stupid, and if he didn’t have things to think about, he might stay and push himself, but…

He shakes his head. “I think I’ll head to the Ice Castle. Open skate should be over.”

“All right.” Minako pats his shoulder, and then gives him a soft shove toward the door. “You’ll work it out, kiddo. It’ll all be okay.”

He smiles a little. “Are you saying that as my dance teacher, or as a witch?”

She winks. “I’m saying it as Minako, who is practically your aunt and has better advice than the rest of your acquaintances combined.”

Yuuri _almost_ opens his mouth to argue before realizing what a trap that would be. “Thank you, Minako.”

“Of course, Yuuri. Now scram. You didn’t get your work out here, so get to the ice rink.”

“Yes, Minako-sensei.” He grabs his coat—no sense in switching clothes when he’d change into the same outfit at the rink—and his bag, and heads out the door into the frigid cold.

A shiver shakes through him, and he curses quietly.Is it getting _colder_? Is that possible? He really should’ve asked Minako about this, though she’s never had an affinity for weather.

Then again, she said that divining wasn’t her thing, either. But maybe she’s just good at gossiping?

Yuuri sighs. He _really_ needs to get on the ice. 

It’s slow progress, picking his way through the icy spots, but eventually he pokes his head into the rink. The triplets are hanging around, Yuuko’s hair a mess and her smile frazzled—probably from having to deal with them—so he sneaks by them and gets into the rink with minimal distraction.

The metal of his blades hit the ice, and the soothing slide across the smooth surface quiets the thoughts in his head. His mind keeps going over yesterday, especially last night, but… he still can’t put his finger on exactly what’s wrong.

Or, no, that’s not exactly true. Victor seemed… different. Of course he would, he felt enough of something to skate Stammi Vicino how he had, but…

He’s probably getting caught up in his own head. He’ll see Victor tonight. It’s already the afternoon and—oh.

Yuuri missed Victor’s exhibition skate.

Did he mean for Yuuri to watch that one, too?

He slides to a stop, swinging around and heading back toward the boards where he left his phone—

Until he collides with a blonde teenager with shimmering fairy wings.

Yuuri falls back, his head hitting the ice, and the world spins for a minute. Yuuri struggles for a minute until his sense of up and down settle back into place, and he pushes himself into a sitting position to find Yurio already upright—if he even fell, who knows—and glaring at Yuuri.

“Um.” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut for a second, before giving up on trying to get his head on straight. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, you’ve never just popped in like—”

“What the _fuck_ happened?” Yurio growls. “What did you do to him?”

Yuuri blinks up at Yurio. “What? Do you mean Victor?”

“Who else would I be talking about, moron?” Yurio leans into Yuuri’s space, so close that their soulmate string springs to life.

“I… I didn’t do anything?” Yuuri tries to get up, but only winds up flailing until he falls again.

“You did _something_, don’t even lie to me.” Yurio jabs a finger at him. “You know what Victor’s doing now? He’s at the hotel bar, drunk, and jabbering in an array of English and Russian and what sounds like Japanese that_ no one _can understand, except I’ve heard _your_ name multiple times.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, then shuts it. He’d say that Yurio has to be joking, but the anger burning in his eyes is way too real. It just… this doesn’t make _sense_. Yuuri shakes his head. “Didn’t he _just_ do his exhibition?”

“Yeah. He did that and then got _wasted_, like, right afterward.” Yurio leans in even closer. “What did you _do_ to him?”

“I told him I was sorry!” Yuuri finally spits out. “He showed up again because I wanted him to be here, and we talked, I apologized and… and I thought everything was okay? He did seem off, but not… not like _this_.”

Yurio glares at him for just a moment longer, but then lets out a huge breath and pulls away before dragging his hands down his face. “Goddammit, _Victor_.”

“W-what?” Yuuri finally manages to get his balance, rising to his feet. “What does that mean?”

“He’s just… he’s _Victor_, okay? He…” Yurio throws up his arms. “He just thinks that everything’s okay if he doesn’t talk to anyone, or gets attached to people, and it fucking _sucks_. Not to mention—”

“_Yuuri!_”

Yuuri and Yurio freeze before they glance across the ice to find a very flushed Victor running at them.

_No_. This was _not_ supposed to be how today went.

Yuuri skates toward him, coming toward Victor just in time to catch him—and he does catch him. He doesn’t go through his arms even though Yurio’s here—but that’s a question for another time. “_Vitya_. Are you okay?”

“Yuuri,” Victor repeats, instantly wrapping his arms around Yuuri and nuzzling into his neck. “You want me today!”

Yuuri freezes. “I… of course I want you. I always want you, Vitya. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, that’s what they always say!” Victor says, unreasonably cheery.

“That’s what _who_ always says?” Yuuri practically squeaks. “_Vitya_—”

“Where the fuck are you passed out?” Yurio scrambles up next to them, slipping a little on the ice in his sneakers

Victor only pulls away enough to give a careless shrug before wrapping around Yuuri again.

“Wait, you can see him?” Yuuri blinks, almost dropping Vitya.

“Of course I can, I’m fucking magic.” Yurio tosses his hair a little, taking a moment to glare at Yuuri. “But that’s not important right now.

Shit, Yurio’s right. Someone has to make sure Victor’s okay—it’s _way_ too early for him to be asleep. “Yurio, go get Yakov and make sure he’s in his room, or somewhere else safe.”

“Ugh. Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to scowl, but Yuuri sees how wide and afraid his eyes are. “I shouldn’t have to keep babysitting _adults_.”

“Yurio, I mean it.” Yuuri grabs his sleeve. “Get Yakov, don’t do it on your own.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Yurio pulls away and crosses his arms.

“Thank you.” Yuuri lets out a shaky breath while Victor clings tighter, murmuring something incomprehensible against his shirt. “I’m sorry, I don’t know…”

“He’s a moron. A _drunk_ moron. I’ll bring you to work it out with him in person tomorrow, even if I have to hunt him down and make him.” Yurio nods, as if he’s making the promise with himself. “For now, just… I dunno, don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri repeats, feeling like it’s not enough, but needing him to _go_.

Yurio gives one last nod before he pops out of existence, and Yuuri gives a large sigh.

Great. Just great. He somehow managed to make things _worse_, of course he did. How come he can’t do anything right? He just… Victor deserves to be happy, and obviously Yuuri doesn’t make him happy, so _why_ are they soulmates? He doesn’t even know what he did this time to make Victor think Yuuri doesn’t want him, and…

“_Yuuri_,” Victor croons, like it’s the only word he knows. “Your collarbones are _gorgeous_. Obscene. I can’t stop staring at them. _Yuuri_.”

“Ah. Um. Thank you?” Yuuri tries to give him a smile. How do you even deal with someone who’s already passed out drunk? It’s not like he can put him to bed, or make him drink some water. “Victor, how about we go back to my house? You remember the hot springs, right?”

Victor gasps. “_Yes_, of course I do! Can we soak in them? Can we, Yuuri?”

Yuuri tentatively strokes a hand through Victor’s hair. “Yes, of course we can. Whatever you want, Vitya.”

Victor finally pulls back and beams at him and… oh, that’s his real smile. But how is he smiling like that after everything he said when he showed up? Maybe he’s just that drunk?

And then… Victor falls through Yuuri, hitting the ground hard enough that Yuuri would be worried about him if he were physically there. Yuuri skates backward, out of the half-there form of Victor, hands fluttering around as he tries to figure out what to do—

A trio of voices call out Yuuri’s name, but they’re drowned out by a single, louder voice, “Yuuri? Are you okay?”

Yuuri looks up, grimacing as the triplets skate toward him. He can’t handle this chaos right now. Victor obviously needs him, he’s not in his right mind, and he can’t deal with this. He clears his throat, glancing between Vitya and Yuuko. “Um. Yeah. I’m fine.”

“_Yuuri_,” Victor whines, turning his head to look up at him.

Yuuri opens his mouth—but the triplets are here, and if they catch a _hint_ of evidence that Victor’s his soulmate, or that Yuuri’s losing his mind, it’ll be all over the internet right away, and obviously Victor can’t handle _any_ more stress. Yuuri tries to subtly hold up a finger to tell him to wait a moment. “I’m fine!”

“We heard voices.” Yuuko frowns, glancing toward Vicchan’s cave where he peeks his head out in curiosity. “Not very happy voices, that definitely weren’t yours.”

“Ah.” Yuuri glances around. “Um. Yurio was here again?”

Yuuko hesitates just a moment before saying, “Yeah, but… it sounded like someone else, too?”

“Nope, no one!” Yuuri waves his hands. “It was no one.”

“Yuuri?” Victor pushes himself up further. “But _I’m_ here.”

“Ah…”

“Yuuri, you really don’t look okay.” Yuuko’s frown grows. “Are you sure you’re okay? You know if something is wrong, or if someone is bothering you, we’ll help.”

“Am I bothering you?” Vitya’s voice rises a little his eyes widening. “O-of course I am, I’m…”

“No!” Yuuri waves his hands. “You’re—he’s not bothering me! At all! No one’s bothering me, everything’s okay, I’m just…” Yuuri only realizes his mistake when the triplet’s eyes bug out of their heads.

“Who was in here, Yuuri?” One of the triplets pulls on his pants and Yuuri feels terrible because he can never remember which one is _which_.

“What’s going on?” Another pulls on his shirt, and Yuuri starts to slip.

He tries to catch himself, and distantly he registers that Yuuko’s yelling at them. The remaining triplet tries to grab on and counterbalance him, and it would work—but another hand pulls him along with her. A stronger hand. And it doesn’t tug too hard, but it’s enough that it tilts him far, _too_ far despite it trying to help.

“Yuuri, are you ignoring me?” Vitya whines, but there’s an edge of desperation to it. Something that Yuuri wants to address, but he _can’t_ because the world is tilting too fast.

Yuuri’s arms spin and he tries to catch himself, but with all the hands on him, his balance fails. He falls, fast and _hard_, his head banging against the ice again, and everything swims. There are voices, but they don’t make sense. Light and color swirl for a moment, and he tries to hold on, he tries to make sense of it, but he _can’t_.

The world fades out, and everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ETA:** Slight delay on the posting of the next chapter, [here are deets if you want them](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1218177617230254092)
> 
> THIS FIC STILL HAS A VERY HAPPY ENDING, LIKE 40K OF FLUFF I SWEAR TO THE YOI GODS, PLS TRUST ME. Ngl I haven't even posted this as I write this end note and I'm having already having Resplendent flashbacks aksdjnaksdjnasd I'm a little frazzled because I finished up two other longish fics this week and it's just been a long week in general, so I may not be wording good atm but I SWEAR!!! HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> As always, [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) are amazing, thank you guys!!! <3 And thank you to everyone who's still around and reading--I swear that things will get better, these stubborn boys just drove me to extremes to get there akjdsnlaskdjn
> 
> * Yuuri falls and hits his head on the ice and blacks out at the end of the chapter. Fair warning that there will be a mention of blood next chapter, just on his scalp, and the recovery from this will take many chapters! There will be no permanent or long-term damage, though.
> 
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	18. Eighteen

It’s loud.

That’s the first thing that Yuuri notices as awareness begins to seep back into him. It’s cold, too, all along his side. He tries to open his eyes, but it hurts, the light stings. It’s all so much, too much, and he just wants to go back to sleep, but—

There’s screaming.

He forces his eyes open again, squinting until shapes start to make sense.

He’s on the ice, almost in the middle of the rink. Still where he fell. Where he fell because… Vitya?

Yuuko’s blurry figure is at the boards, gesturing wildly at the triplets who are still on the ice. But… pressed up against the side? And Vicchan is growling, body half out of his cave, wings spread wide, ears back, nostrils flared. He’s not moving though, almost like he’s scared, as he looks at Yuuri.

No, looking _past_ Yuuri.

A distant part of Yuuri is aware that he shouldn’t move, that his head is pounding, his heartbeat fast and loud. But he can’t just _lie_ there.

He struggles to get up and lean on his elbows, vision swimming and breath catching in his throat, a roaring rushing through his ears.

Wait.

No.

That’s not in his head.

He forces himself to look up, despite the pain that warps his thoughts and threatens to make him pass out again.

_Not yet_.

In front of him is… white? Silver? It’s a figure, but it’s three times the size of a person. The edges of it are blurry, not fully there. It’s impossible. It doesn’t look real.

But then it looks down at Yuuri, and Yuuri sees blue, and he _knows_. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri breathes.

It makes no sense. None of this makes any sense. But when has it ever made sense? When did their weird projections make sense? When did the strange weather and dreams make sense? When did it make sense that Victor Nikiforov was his soulmate?

But it’s true. It’s all happening. And now Vitya is a giant _something_ that’s… holding a sword?

Okay, maybe this is a little more extreme than anything else so far.

“Vitya, that’s you, right?” Yuuri’s words slur a bit, and he knows that’s a bad thing but he can’t remember _why_ it is. He wants to reach out and touch this… whatever Vitya is, but he can barely shift the weight on his elbows, much less move his arms without falling flat on the frigid ice.

There’s a slight humming in the air—or maybe it’s more than slight, Yuuri can’t tell with the ringing in his ears—and the form settles and shrinks a little, those bits of blue forming something a little more familiar.

Yuuri smiles up at him little. Good, it is Vitya. He’s not gone.

But this is also just a little weird.

“What are you doing?” Yuuri asks, fingers twitching as he thinks about reaching out and touching Vitya, but he doesn’t dare.

Luckily, Vitya makes it easier on both of them, reaching out with a not-quite-solid-edged hand, and brushing against the side of Yuuri’s face.

It’s cold. Vitya’s touch is cold, and Yuuri knows this is weird, but he can’t place a finger on _why_. Maybe it’s because people are supposed to be warm? No that doesn’t feel right…

Regardless, the touch is a comfort. And… concerned? Yuuri feels concern, a tightness in his chest, but it’s definitely not his own. His kind of concern is a souring worry in his gut, this is gentler and kinder and… it’s _Vitya’_s. He knows this. He should probably question knowing this, but instead he adds it to his ever-growing list of questions to think about when his head doesn’t feel like it might fall off if he moves too fast.

“I’m okay.” Yuuri tries to smile, but it must not be successful because the concern spikes, the knot tightening in his chest while Vitya’s form becomes less distinct again. Yuuri huffs. “Or… I will be. You, though… what’s wrong, Vitya?”

The humming sounds again, this time more like a whine? Can he talk? Or is Yuuri’s hearing just that bad? 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri babbles. “I-I keep screwing things up, I’m sorry Vitya, I’ll make it all okay again. Or I’ll try and make it okay. What if I _can’t_ make it okay?”

The concern grows again, until a firmness settles in his chest instead, and Vitya’s form begins to solidify even more, a… thumb-like appendage moving across Yuuri’s cheek.

“It’s… I don’t know what I did?” Yuuri’s voice cracks. “I mean, I know that I screwed up before. I-I overreacted, and you don’t have to forgive me, but things seemed okay and they aren’t okay now? Vitya, what’s wrong?”

Where did his mental filter go? He always thought he didn’t have much of one, but this is ridiculous. Yuuri’s vision shouldn’t be swaying, and Vitya should be _human_ for this conversation.

Well, he’s really just a spiritual projection of a human when Yuuri usually sees him, and he’s probably just a spiritual projection of whatever _this_ is, but those are technicalities.

Something about Vitya settles more even as that tightness in his chest grows sharper. His form grows more solid, smaller, more Vitya-shaped, even if he’s still an indistinguishable mass of white except for those blue, blue eyes.

“Yuu…” Vitya reaches out with his other hand, cupping Yuuri’s face with that chilled touch.

And Yuuri leans into it. It feels good, not like the bad cold of the ice pressed against his body. It’s _Vitya_, and it’s good.

A sharp and loud cry pierces the air, making him pull back and swivel around—even as it sends his vision tilting and blurring beyond recognition. But he knows that noise, he _knows_ Vicchan after years and years away and—

Vicchan’s afraid. Of course he’s afraid. He gets scared of new things easily, and with his past, Yuuri doesn’t blame him. The only people he ever comes out to greet is Yuuri, the rest of the Katsukis, and the Nishigoris. You need to spend awhile getting to know Vicchan before he fully trusts you. No wonder he hadn’t come out to say hello earlier, he was probably sleeping when Yuuri came in, then Yurio, and… maybe he can see Vitya?

Oh. That’s an answer to one of the questions. Yuuko was… trying to get the triplets away from Vitya, and they looked ready to run themselves. Vicchan is getting more defensive than he has in years.

But it’s just Vitya.

Except that Vitya _does_ have a sword. And Yuuri hadn’t told Yuuko about Vitya yet, so she had no idea it could even be related to his weird soulmate thing. So he screwed up _again_. Great.

His vision settles just as there’s a scream of sorts from behind him—from Vitya—and that tightness in his chest shifts, changes. Yuuri almost wants to say it feels like it’s saying _mine_, possessive, but…

No. Not possessive, it’s protective. And it would almost be warm and comforting, if a giant, white, blurred leg wasn’t stepping over Yuuri, toward Vicchan.

“Vitya!” Yuuri tries to yell, but his voice is weak and broken, especially when Yuuko and the triplets start shouting and Vicchan’s growling and hissing, and Vitya’s still making that shrieking noise.

He knows he shouldn’t move. He’s never felt this bad before, but he’s had head injuries before, and that’s the first thing you have to know about head injuries, _don’t move, you’ll make it worse_.

But this is Vicchan, and this is _Vitya_.

Yuuri’s spent enough time playing it safe to protect them from himself—

No. To protect himself from them.

He hefts himself up, even though it feels like he weighs as much as Vicchan, even though his feet keep sliding out from underneath him. He digs his picks into the ice, launching himself and crawling and stumbling forward, until he’s caught up with Victor, so close to Vicchan.

Vitya raises the sword in his hand a little, but hesitates. Maybe he sees a little of Makkachin in Vicchan, maybe he would just never hurt a dragon, but Yuuri won’t risk it.

He fumbles forward until he smacks into Vitya’s leg, and it’s… strange. Like the air is too thick to walk through, not quite like a solid object. But Yuuri still wraps his arms around Victor’s calf, squeezing tight. “Please, Vitya, no!”

There’s a whine from above him, and for a moment Vitya’s feelings waver… but then Yuuri feels him shift slightly, and he firms in his resolve.

“_No!_” Yuuri grips Vitya’s leg tighter. “It’s okay Vitya. It’s okay. This is… this is Vicchan. Remember, I told you about him? You gave him medicine, and he’s doing so much better and… He’s my soulmate. We have matching tattoos, my whole family has matching tattoos, and you’re just… you look scary right now, but it’s okay. He won’t hurt you, he’s never hurt anyone. Everything’s all right. We’re all right.”

“We… are…?” Vitya’s giant form finally makes a noise above the whines and the screaming, finally forming full words. “Okay?”

“Yes. We’re okay, Vitya. We’ll be okay. Just… stop.” Tears begin to leak from Yuuri’s eyes—or maybe this is just the first time that he’s noticing them there. Either way, he can’t get them to stop. “Please stop, Vitya. Come here. _Please._”

He doesn’t know why he says that. Technically Vitya’s right there, he’s even holding onto him, even if it’s weird and cold. He shouldn’t be so clingy.

But then the air shifts, it… warms? And then the leg he’s clinging to is changing, and shrinking, and he should support himself to stop from slipping down it but he’s so _tired_—

There are arms around him, and he’s no longer about to collide against the ice. He wants to clutch back in return because he _knows_ those arms and that grip and this person. But he just can’t seem to find his arms.

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya whispers, and Yuuri’s eyes manage to focus just enough that to see that he looks like himself again. That he’s reaching down and brushing away hair and… and there’s red on his hand?

But what matters more than that is that Vitya’s eyes are far too shiny. Yuuri wants to reach up and brush away the tears, but that’s _another_ thing he can’t fix. Vitya is crying because of him again, and, and, and….

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri sobs, hiccuping a little between. “Vitya. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _s_-_so sorry_.”

“Yuuri,” Vitya repeats before he leans in and presses his lips softly against Yuuri’s forehead, on the side across from where he touched last time. “Don’t apologize, my Yuuri. It isn’t you, we both know that. It’s always me, every time. I know I’m difficult, and too much, and that I do things that I think I’ve thought through and sometimes aren’t the brightest choices—didn’t this just show that? I… I’m not…”

Yuuri tries to shake his head, but he can’t find the energy. But this can’t stand. That is _not_ what Vitya is. He’s ridiculous, but everyone makes bad choices. Yuuri sure has. So instead, Yuuri frowns and says, “But you’re so good and so nice. You’re perfect. You’re _Vitya_.”

Vitya laughs, but it rings hollow and dark and heavy. “You’re not in your right mind, are you? Tell that to me when you’re back to being yourself.”

Yuuri squints at him, taking a long breath and finding out that _that’s_ exhausting, too. “You… _You_ can’t judge. Aren’t _you_ drunk?”

Vitya scrunches nose slightly and—oh, it’s adorable. “I don’t feel drunk anymore. I think… whatever that was… I’m not sure, but I’m not drunk. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. That was— I made a very bad choice.”

Yuuri smiles. “I forgive you—oh!”

Something presses against Yuuri’s cheek, and he can just barely make out the giant lump of Vicchan’s head.

“Vicchan,” Yuuri tries to coo, but he’s not sure if it’s too garbled to understand. Words are hard, but they’re normally not _this _hard.

“Oh, Yuuri.” Vitya’s voice cracks on his name. “The woman that was here, she, um. I think she’s getting help, she was gesturing and… I don’t understand much Japanese.”

“Much?” The fact that he knows _any_ is a surprise to Yuuri; Victor knows French and Russian and English, but he’s never mentioned anything else in his interviews.

“I started studying after, well, you know. But it’s very hard! It’s so different from anything I know. And I like a challenge, but it’s frustrating—oh, now I’m rambling, I-I’m sorry.”

“S’fine.” Yuuri tries to smile, but it’s even harder than it was before. “Wha… happn’d?”

Vitya’s lip wobbles a bit. “I don’t know. You were just—you were focusing on the triplets, and you wouldn’t look at me and I was worried, and then you fell, and there… there was blood and something _snapped_. I’m so, so sorry Yuuri.” He leans down and presses his lips to Yuuri’s forehead again, staying longer this time.

If it didn’t hurt like hell, Yuuri wouldn’t mind this whole situation so much. He likes it when Vitya kisses him—he likes it when Vitya touches him in general. He likes Vitya a lot. He tries to say as much, but his lips are having trouble with so many words all at once.

Vitya hushes him, hand almost reaching toward Yuuri’s hairline before hesitating and fluttering around uncertainly until it settles on Yuuri’s cheek. “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure you’ll be okay. I-I won’t do anything like this again, I promise. J-Just be okay.”

Yuuri manages to hum in acknowledgment. Of course he’ll be okay. He’s got Vitya here, everything’s back to normal, and… Well, maybe not totally normal. His head does hurt a lot.

“An ambulance is on the way.” Yuuko’s voice registers at the edge of Yuuri’s consciousness, her English accented even if her grammar has always been good, and if it’s odd to hear her speak after so many years without having to.

“I—good.” Vitya looks away from Yuuri for a moment, and though he doesn’t like that, it’s only a second before his gaze is on him again. “I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I…” Yuuko clears her throat as Yuuri’s vision begins to shrink a little—he has no idea where Yuuko even is. “I guess Yuuri’s imaginary friend wasn’t so imaginary, huh? He was so sure you were…”

Vitya chuckles, and it’s a choked noise. “I’m the one who ignored him first when we were kids, to get him to go away. I suppose I deserve it. I deserve… all this.”

Did Vitya do that? Everyone was saying how Yuuri should move on if it was an imaginary friend. Minako and Mari kept trying to get him into other things, to get out of his one head. And then… Oh. Yeah. Vitya stopped talking to him.

Something stings in his chest and his eyelids are just too heavy to keep open, now that tears burn in them again.

So this is how Vitya must have been feeling all of this time. Except... except _worse_, because…

“Yuuri, no, stay awake! You can sleep soon…”

He doesn’t even know who’s talking, but it doesn’t matter either way. Yuuri’s consciousness slips through his fingers like heavy silk, the weight of his eyelids heavier than anything Yuuri’s tried to lift before. More effort than all of his failed attempts at Vitya’s quad flip combined.

Vitya…

He really hopes Vitya is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you might have seen if you looked at my Twitter or the end notes of the last chapter, last week I lost a pup that I've had for around half of my life, and though she was old-ish it was _very_ sudden and I'm not coping so great and am not myself, hence the large delay in this chapter. I want to promise this won't happen again, but unfortunately my other doggo is even older and, well. I'll probably be delayed in responding to comments because I'm really out of it, but know that I'll be reading and appreciating every one, no matter how long it takes me to respond. <3 The plan is to get back on schedule, but I'll let you guys know if I can't!
> 
> Anyway, the original end note I had drafted: I SWEAR TO THE YOI GODS, no one is staying permanently injured and no one's even temporarily dying, but I think some of you might be able to put together where I'm going with this... :'D
> 
> As always, bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being amazing and helping so much. And thank you guys for reading!!! Even though things are getting a little weird!!!!!
> 
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	19. Ninteen

This time, when Yuuri wakes up, it’s eerily quiet.

Not that it’s completely silent, of course. There’s a soft whirring, like that of a distant fan or some sort of mechanical something. And beneath that, there’s a soft… snoring? Gentle, but loud enough that he hears it.

Yuuri groans as he shifts. The surface he’s on is _hard_. It’s like the ice he last woke up on, but it’s not cold.

Oh. Last time he woke up, he…

But he’s not in any pain. He’s woozy, his eyes aren’t even open and he can practically already see his vision swimming. His guts churn, but… they don’t feel upset? In fact, other than the dizziness, nothing feels wrong. Nothing hurts.

Which, unless he’s been asleep for over a week, should absolutely not be the case.

With a deep breath, Yuuri squints his eyes open, blinking a few times before things begin to make some sort of sense. It’s bright, sunlight angling through the windows in a way that means it’s either early morning or late evening, so it takes him a moment of adjusting to the brightness before he registers where he’s laying. It… he’s definitely still on the ice. But—

But Vitya’s not holding him anymore. Yuuko and the girls aren’t here.

He’s… alone?

They just left him here?

No. Yuuri’s brain might be cruel, but even it can tell that neither Vitya or Yuuko would leave him abandoned in an ice rink. Hell, even Vicchan would probably fly him to the nearest hospital if he had to, and Vicchan hasn’t done much more than hover for a few minutes in years. Not to mention there was an ambulance already on the way before he blacked out.

This doesn’t… None of this makes _any_ sense.

He blinks and pushes himself up, brushing his hair out of his face—he _really_ needs to get it cut, Vitya distracted him way too much back in Detroit—and looks around.

And… there’s a lot more blueish green here than there normally is in the rink. And yellow? Maybe gold. The details are hard to make out without his glasses, but just how drastically different it is from any rink he’s been in before is clear. He shifts, looking around, and that dragon cave is _much_ larger than the usual one in Hasetsu, and…

Wow. Even without his glasses he can make out the giant, and he means _giant,_ flags hanging from the far wall, something fancy emblazoned across them. And he doesn’t need to see clearly to know it’s some sort of double-headed eagle, he doesn’t need Google to know that those colors, in the order, make up the Russian flag. Now that it’s clicked into place, this entire rink is way too familiar in the distant, surreal way that something only seen in magazines and videos can be.

This is Victor Nikiforov’s home rink.

In _Russia_.

Oh no. He… he’s… oh _no_.

Yuuri reaches a shaking hand to press to his forehead, and he should be sweating and sick right now but he’s _not_. He’s just horribly, awfully dizzy, and—

A loud, low humming shakes him from his thoughts, nearly scaring him to his feet, but they can’t seem to find purchaseand he flops back down.

He turns, and… He squeaks. Well, maybe screams a little before his mind catches up with him.

Yuuri knew that Makkachin was huge, but he never quite understood _how_ large. She’s maybe double the size of Vicchan, if a little less—he can’t concentrate enough to tell exactly. But her fur is also a much warmer brown than Vicchan’s, her underside a little paler than the rest of her, and her eyes are a little more green than Vicchan’s are. She has that same softness written into her features, though; that gentleness that the greater dragons are known for.

She makes another deep, loud humming sound that would’ve rattled through Yuuri’s bones if he seemed to have them, before pressing her face against his side—and it’s _bigger_ than his side—shifting a little closer.

He huffs out a gentle laugh, leaning into her a little harder than he means to as his head swims even more. Still, he manages to reach up and scratch around her ears, just like Vicchan likes. She flops right down, though her head stays up to support Yuuri, and a rumbling shakes through her and into him, settling him a bit.

She’s so adorable and cute, enough that Yuuri can feel a warmth swelling in his chest. Twelve-year-old Yuuri would be screaming if he were in now-Yuuri’s shoes. He’d probably be as close to passing out as now-Yuuri, too.

Somehow, above the rumbling and the gentle noises of the mostly silent rink, a soft gasp manages to make its way to Yuuri’s ears. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri’s head instantly swivels around before he can think twice about it, and it’s a good thing his stomach seems to be missing because he doesn’t want to throw up.

Especially not in front of Victor.

No, _Vitya_. Who’s standing right there at the boards in his athletic gear, probably about to come on the ice to practice, and Yuuri…

Yuuri reaches out toward him, as if he could actually touch Vitya at this distance. Something in his chest aches _deeply_ to touch Vitya, to be held by him. His fingers shake even worse than before as the want beats steady and courses through his veins.

He… he doesn’t know what’s going on. Any guesses that he comes up with are too much to even _think _about. All he wants right now is Vitya.

Victor sprints along the side of the rink, barely slowing down to tear off his skate guards, swearing in Russian as he does so. Yuuri probably shouldn’t recognize the word, but he knows an embarrassing amount of Russian from trying to translate any and every article he could get his hands on about Victor Nikiforov as a kid. And what kid doesn’t look up swear words?

Yuuri shakes his head—another mistake that he quickly corrects—because Vitya’s on the ice, and coming closer and closer.

There are so many creases of worry on Vitya’s face—too many. He shouldn’t be like that. Yuuri should make it better. But he doesn’t even know what’s wrong.

Victor slows a little as he approaches, stopping just a few feet away from Makka and Yuuri, and Yuuri doesn’t appreciate that.

Yuuri huffs, reaching out further, making grabby hands like he’s a five-year-old.

Vitya melts, the tense lines of his body smoothing as he falls to his knees on the hard, cold ice and wraps his arms around Yuuri.

As always, Victor’s not warm, and he’s not really soft, if Yuuri’s being honest. But he’s Victor. He’s Vitya. And something in him settles at the touch, even as his head still churns.

“_Yuuri_.” Victor reaches up and tangles his fingers in Yuuri’s hair, burying his face in Yuuri’s neck. “You’re here. You’re _here_. I thought…”

“What happened?” Yuuri murmurs, wrapping his arms as tight around Victor’s torso as he can. “When… how?”

Victor huffs a little. “You’re still feeling out of it, aren’t you?”

“M’dizzy.” Yuuri lets his eyes close, lets his head settle a little. He’d almost say he feels tired, but it’s not as if he could fall asleep while he’s like this. He’s just… worn.

“I’d imagine. Oh, Yuuri.” Victor runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair a few more times while a sharp impatience begins to grow in Yuuri’s gut. He eventually speaks again, though. “You remember falling? And… afterward?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri shifts, kinda wishing he could see Vitya’s face, but not wanting to let him go. “I fell, and you turned into a big… spirit thing or whatever, and then you were normal and I passed out.”

“That’s certainly one way to describe it.” Victor’s head shifts so his lips are pressed against Yuuri’s neck for a moment in a not-quite kiss that has Yuuri’s cheeks turning red—even if he can’t feel the heat, they tingle with it. “Well, Yura came back right afterward, warning me that Yakov was waking me up—though he got… particularly angry, first. Then I had to go back, but he said the ambulance came, and took you to the hospital and…”

“And?” Yuuri prompts, pulling on Vitya’s shirt a bit. He can’t just leave Yuuri hanging like that, not when he’ll run himself into the ground wondering and worrying about it.

“And you weren’t doing so well. Yura had to come back to the hotel and pack, but he’s been texting with your friend at the rink—Yuuko, I think it was? Well, she’s kept Yura updated, and… you had to have surgery, and you haven’t woken up yet.”

Yuuri swallows, and then barely dares to whisper, “How long has it been?”

Victor’s quiet for a long moment. “Four days.”

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat. He’s gotten concussions before—it’s more or less an inevitability when you fling yourself across a solid, hard surface for a living—but he’s never injured himself like this. He’s never even had a major fracture or break. He…

“Yuuri, it’s okay.” Victor’s grip tightens a little, grounding Yuuri while he drifts into his anxiety, unmoored. “You’re _here_ now. You’ve never come here before, which means something has to have changed, right?”

There’s the lilt of a question in his voice, which does absolutely nothing to reassure Yuuri.

“Does that mean… will I wake up?” Yuuri squeezes his eyes tightly shut as the rushing in his head only grows and grows.

“I…” Victor starts, but only trails off.

Which means he doesn’t know. Which means that Yuuri might be stuck like this forever. Or… something worse. Something far worse, that Yuuri doesn’t want to think about.

He just hit his _head_, this isn’t _fair_.

“Holy shit!”

Victor and Yuuri barely separate an inch to be able to swivel their heads to look across the rink to find Yurio standing up against the boards. Unlike Victor, he doesn’t go to the entrance, he just hops over the edge and starts running toward them, slipping and sliding in his sneakers. Why is he even at the rink without his skates on?

“Yuuko didn’t tell me anything about you waking up, Katsudon—though I guess you’re asleep if you’re here, whatever.” Yurio nearly collides into them, instead flopping into the ice next to them, Makka lovingly settling her tail around him.

“I… I don’t know anything.” Yuuri’s breathing is sharp and quick, despite him trying to slow it. “I just remember falling asleep, and—and it’s been _four days_?”

“Yeah, about.” Yurio’s eyes narrow. “Why the fuck isn’t he wearing clothes?”

“I don’t—I don’t _know_.” Vitya takes a shaking breath, shifting Yuuri so that he would be more protected from the elements or wandering gazes, as if it mattered.

But Yuuri can’t feel the cold, and Yuuri doesn’t _care_. Because he’s not really here. He’s in a hospital, in Japan, and he might not make it.

“Shouldn’t he be wearing, I dunno, one of those gown things?” Yurio waves his arms, but Yuuri’s vision can’t exactly focus on it.

“Maybe they’re… I don’t know.” Vitya shakes his head. “I really don’t know, Yurio. What was the last thing you heard from Yuuko?”

“That he was stable, after everything. Everything seems to be healing okay. Hey.” Yurio puts his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, jolting him to look up into those green eyes that are, for once, crinkled at the edges with concern. “You’re past the worst of it. Yuuko told me that. You’re not gonna, like… die any second.”

“But what if I don’t wake up?” Yuuri squeaks out before his words catch up with him. He shouldn’t have said that, he shouldn’t have dumped this on them—but what if he _doesn’t_?

Vitya shifts again, reaching up and cupping Yuuri’s face between his hands and forcing their eyes to meet. “You… you’ve been getting better. It’s going to be okay. It has to be okay.”

But what if it isn’t?

The question hangs heavy in the air between them as the world spins a little faster around Yuuri. Even though he still doesn’t feel sleepy, a weight drags at his limbs. He didn’t know it was possible for a soul to get drowsy or weak, but apparently they can.

So Yuuri leans further into Victor’s touch, letting him support him. “I… I’m sorry Vitya. If I hadn’t started this whole mess…”

Vityahushes him. “No, Yuuri. You’re not the one who lost control and probably would have destroyed an entire ice rink if left unattended. And you… you probably hurt yourself more _stopping _me. This one isn’t your fault Yuuri.”

“But you would never have gotten upset if I…” What _had_ Yuuri done? He still hasn’t gotten to talk to Vitya about why he was so upset. But they still wouldn’t have had this separation if it wasn’t for him in the first place. “I’m the one who pushed you away—I pushed you to that point.”

“What the fuck, you two are _morons_.” Yurio jabs a fist at Vitya’s side. “You really think blame is so important when you both feel guilty? Just do better, _idiots_. There are more important things to talk about.”

“I—” Vitya starts, then snaps his mouth shut, brow furrowed and obviously still trying to take the blame.

But maybe Yurio’s right for now—Yuuri’s tired of disagreeing. They can talk about this later, when they’re not sitting in the middle of the cold, hard ice rink.

Yuuri gasps, trying and failing to weakly wiggle out of Victor’s grasp. “Vitya, your _knees_, they have to be so sore, especially right after a competition—”

And, suddenly Yuuri falls back _hard_. It doesn’t hurt, though it does set his head spinning even more than it had been before. He… why did Vitya let him go like that?

“_Yuuri_!” Vitya gasps, and there’s scraping on the ice like Vitya’s trying to get up, but Yuuri feels none of the movement. He can see the blurry shape of both Yurio and Vitya kneeling over him, but he doesn’t feel them. In fact, he barely feels the hard ice beneath him anymore.

“_Vitya_!” A gruff voice rings out across the ice rink before a spew of biting Russian follows he familiar word, not a single word making any sense to Yuuri.

Ah. Someone other than Yurio saw him, and he fell through Vitya. Of course…

“Yakov!” A strained sort of smile seems to spread across Vitya’s face as Yuuri’s vision mostly clears—but it’s not as good as it was before. “Makka came out to visit Yuuri! He’s here, which means he must be getting better. Is’t that exciting?”

There’s a snort loud enough that even Yuuri can hear it, and Yakov makes the effort to answer in English, too. “You mean the kid that strung you along, dumped you, and then broke your heart again? It will be so nice to meet such an infamous young man.”

“_Yakov_,” Vitya snaps, false smile completely slipping away.

“Hey!” Yurio stands up, slipping as he moves between Vitya and Yuuri, and Yakov. “He’s sometimes kind of a fuck-up, but not everything is his fault. And he’s _hurt_, stop being such an _asshole_.”

“_What_ did you just call me Yuri Plisetsky? You come over here _right now_!” Yakov bellows loud enough that it echoes in the rafters.

“Shit,” Yurio mutters, then begins to pick his way across the ice and back to the boards.

Yuuri huffs out a laugh as his eyes droop. Well, at least Yurio’s honest. And Yakov’s something else, but… well, it’s probably good he can’t see Yuuri. Though Victor had been able to touch him and be seen last time, so why…?

“I’m sorry Yuuri.” Victor reaches down in an attempt to stoke Yuuri’s hair, but Yakov’s eyes must still be on them because Yuuri doesn’t feel a thing. Victor bites his lip. “He shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Yuuri tries to lift a hand to wave the statement off, but it’s too heavy. “I’ve been pretty shitty, he’s right.”

“No, he shouldn’t have said it even if that were true.” Victor scowls. “Besides, well, I’ve been pretty shitty myself.”

He really won’t let this go, will he? Yuuri takes a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs to speak. It’s never been so _hard_ before. “Fine. If you won’t listen to me… then we can be less shitty together. Okay?”

Victor just stares at him for a moment before giving a shaky smile, and a nod. “Of course, Yuuri.”

Yuuri manages to answer his smile with a less-shaky one before his eyes fall shut, far too heavy to keep open. “I’m sleepy, I think.”

“Oh. No, Yuuri, don’t—“ Finally Victor’s hands make contact with Yuuri’s hair, moving frantically for a moment before settling down a little.

“M’sorry,” Yuuri manages to get out, because he _is_. He’s sorry, and he’s scared because he doesn’t know when he’ll see Vitya again—_if_ he’ll see Vitya.

“No. No, it’s okay, Yuuri.” Vitya’s fingertips brush along the side of Yuuri’s face. “Y-you need to rest. I’m sure this isn’t good for you while you’re healing. You should… don’t worry about me. I need to take care of you, not the other way around.”

But Vitya’s important too. And Vitya should _know this_, but… Yuuri’s mouth won’t move. He can’t lift his arms or limbs.

A hot flash of irritation burns in his stomach. He needs to tell Vitya. He needs to make Vitya smile, because he’s made him sad way, _way_ too much. But his body is betraying him, and what if… what if he doesn’t wake up again?

_No_.

He will wake up again.

He has to.

Screw his body, screw fate and the universe or whatever.

He _will_ wake up, and he _will _makes this better.

But right now… Vitya’s fingers move softly across his face and through his hair, and Yuuri’s consciousness slips away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, thank you so, so much to everyone who left such kind comments on the last chapter. <3 My social spoons have been redused to one (1) flimsy little plastic spoon that I can barely do anything with, but I've read and appreciated every comment, thank you. <3 <3 <3 It's frustrating how little progress I feel I'm making with my emotions, but I suppose considering how much I _write_ about it, I should get that grief hits differently every time. :'D I really want to get back on track with posting even if it'll take me a bit to catch up on posting, and tbh your guys' support is helping me get there, so thank you <3
> 
> Also, kudos to anyone who managed to guess where I was going with this plotline! And I'm very, very sorry. :'D I SWEAR THE SOFT ENDING WILL BE ESPECIALLY SOFTE
> 
> Also also, thank you [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for helping me wrangle this story! And thanks to all the readers out there supporting me even as I go through an emotion tornado and leave you on a bajillion cliffhangers. :'D
> 
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	20. Twenty

For the third time, Yuuri wakes up somewhere that is most definitely not his room.

He can’t complain too much, though. This time the surface is much softer than ice, even if it’s still not warm or cold. Meaning that he’s probably still unconscious in Japan. And who knows how much time has passed this time? 

Phichit got Yuuri addicted to this dumb medical drama show where they said that if someone’s in a coma for over two weeks, their chances of ever waking up drop, and drop _steeply_. Not to mention the physical damage that would happen, everything starts to go into atrophy, and…

And yeah, Yuuri doesn’t have any _plans_ to go back to skating, but what if he never can now?

_No_. No. Yuuri takes a moment to try and even out his breathing. It might be the same day as when he last came to in Victor’s rink. Medical dramas are _never_ right, he and Phichit laughed at how injuries they’ve personally had have been treated. And if he had some sort of severe trauma or whatever, it would take time to heal and for the swelling to go down. It might be that.

But _what if_—

Yuuri forces his eyes open to have a look around and kick himself out of his own head before he has a panic attack in the middle of… Where _is_ he?

It’s dim, much dimmer than when he woke up in the ice rink. He’s on a blue couch, something more sleek and modern than anything he’s ever had, but not to an obnoxious point. He sits up and finds that the rest of the room is the same way, an open living area with pale wooden floors and a high ceiling with weird lights. 

It takes a moment for everything to register in Yuuri’s mind as what it is, his vision blurred from his lack of glasses, but not swimming and shifting like before. And again he gets a strange swoop of nostalgia for something that he’s seen in magazines before, but somewhere he’d never been.

Some home design magazine had done an extensive photoshoot of Victor Nikiforov’s apartment when he’d first moved into it at eighteen, and of course Yuuri’d eaten it right up. It was so vastly different from the onsen, almost like it was something from another world. So clean and pristine that it almost shouldn’t be lived in.

And, honestly, it doesn’t _look_ very lived in.

Yuuri’s always lived in places with a lot of life. The onsen is constantly bustling with guests eating and drinking and bathing, even nowadays with business being quieter it’s never really _quiet_. Living with Phichit was loud and never boring, Phichit dragging him out more often than not. Even before Phichit was around, the hustle and bustle of Detroit seemed to follow him no matter where he went, the noise constantly seeping through the thin walls and keeping him occupied, his belongings spreading and shifting and changing as he tried to build himself a home.

There’s none of that here. For a moment Yuuri wonders if he _can’t_ hear when he’s in this form until he shifts on the couch and hears the fabric creak. Everything around him looks almost exactly like it did from the photoshoot that Yuuri had seen so many years ago. Some things have switched to different, newer versions, but they don’t look very worn, even if there’s no dust on them. It doesn’t feel like the warm chaos of the onsen, or the comfortable loudness of the apartment Yuuri shared with Phichit.

No, this is like a museum.

Yuuri shifts to his feet, looking around. The only things with any sort of character that Yuuri can see without his glasses are the worn books on a shelf, but otherwise, it just doesn’t look like a place to live in. Yuuri doesn’t know how anyone could stand to live like this. He’d at least need to share the space with a dog or a cat or a gryphon or _something_. Something to make it feel more like a home and less like the aching loneliness that settles into Yuuri’s bones.

He takes a step forward before feeling a weird something brush against his legs and freezing, looking down.

He… he’s wearing a hospital gown. And last time he was awake he was somehow naked. He doesn’t know why he gets to wear some sort of clothes this time, but he can’t be grateful when he knows what this _means_. Victor had said it’s been days after he’d fallen last time he was here, and if medical dramas are to believed—and they aren’t he _knows_ better, but—he might only have two weeks.

If he never wakes up, will he just… stay forever like this? No skating, no talking to his family, no one seeing him other than Vitya—

Where _is_ Vitya? He might know something about Yuuri’s condition. But he could be sleeping, so Yuuri really shouldn’t bother him. It looks so early, and obviously Yuuri’s at least doing better than he was before. He’ll just… he’ll explore a little, and then search for Victor and wake him up. Victor might not mind getting woken up if Yuuri wanted to, but Yuuri’s already worried him so much and a few minutes won’t matter, right?

So he begins to shuffle around the spotless, hardly lived in apartment. He takes back what he thought before, it’s worse than a museum. At least you can learn things and see displays in a museum, but here there aren’t even any pictures out. Victor doesn’t have any movies, and the books on the shelf aren’t anything that Yuuri’s seen before—half of them aren’t even in English. There’s French and Russian and… wait a second. Yuuri slips one book off the shelf and flips through it, mind racing as he barely takes in the Japanese flashing by his eyes. It’s simple, below a light novel reading level, probably for young or new readers. And… and that means that Victor is _learning Japanese_?

It can’t be because of Yuuri, that’s so… so ridiculous. Too much. He’d say it was for Worlds, but if Victor learned the language of every country that he competes in, he’d have more languages under his belt than maybe anyone else alive. It has to be for something else. Maybe even Victor’s just… using Yuuri to learn Japanese or something.

A laugh bubbles out of him as his thoughts catch up with him.

Vitya isn’t even remotely like that, and Yuuri’s never spoken in Japanese to Victor. He’s maybe mumbled to himself in it a few times, but years in the States had trained him to use English as second-nature with anyone who’s not from his hometown. The idea of Vitya using him to _learn a language_ is just silly and all kinds of ridiculous.

Then again, Vitya’s being ridiculous too.

Sure, when Yuuri was an obsessive teenager he picked up some Russian to translate articles online, but back then he was _desperate_ for content. Victor doesn’t _need_ to learn Japanese, it’s not like if he projects to Yuuri in Hasetsu he can even talk to anyone but Yuuri.

Unless he wasn’t planning on just projecting.

Yuuri nearly drops the book, only just catching it as it slips from his fingers.

No. No, not after how Yuuri reacted with the medicine, he probably wouldn’t just visit like that without asking—

But Yuuri had taken away all of his options for contacting him, hadn’t he?

Maybe… maybe while Yuuri was worried about apologizing to Vitya, Vitya was making his own plans.

Yuuri spends a few more seconds turning over the book before giving a small sigh and sliding it back onto the shelf. He’s just… He should ask Victor. He can do that, and he _should_ do that. They’re back in contact again, and… And they definitely need to talk.

Even if Yuuri’s feeling a bit out of it because, well, he’s out of his body and probably recovering from a horrible accident.

It’s fine.

He slides the book back onto the shelf and tries to move on, but he immediately regrets it. There’s just so little to explore in this empty apartment.

He pads into the kitchen, the hard floors odd beneath his feet while he can’t feel if they’re warm or cold. Given the temperature in Hasetsu, it could easily be freezing in Saint Petersburg.

Though who knows. If it’s been long enough, spring might have finally come to Hasetsu. It might even be summer, he has no sense of time, there aren’t any calendars here, and there are windows but if he looks outside and sees that it’s the middle of summer—

No, he’s not going down that rabbit hole.

He’ll know soon enough, and in the meantime he should do things that _won’t_ send him spiraling into a panic attack. He shakes the thoughts off before he opens the fridge and pokes around. It’s questionably bare, considering how much Victor judged Yuuri for his own food choices. Some chicken, some vegetables, eggs, milk. That’s it.

He shuts the doors and begins poking through the cupboards, but of course he can’t read hardly anything because most of it’s in _Russian_. And apparently there’s not much crossover between what Yuuri read on skating forums and terrible quality magazine scans and ingredients in a kitchen. Who would have thought.

With a sigh, Yuuri moves to the last cabinet, yanking it open and—

All the pots and pans inside come clattering out.

Yuuri squeaks out a pathetic scream as they smack into him—a very weird sensation when it doesn’t hurt at all. He jumps back and crouches down as if that’ll help him when the pot lids start spinning across the floor, and the pots stop bouncing. Who needs this many pots when you aren’t even using your own kitchen that much?

Once things settle, Yuuri sighs and picks up a pan and a pot before getting to his feet. At least he lasted this long without making a mess. It’s impressive, for him.

“Y-Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s breath catches. His voice is quieter, but it’s so similar to the last time that Yuuri heard him say his name…

Yuuri turns around, slowly.

Vitya stands there, his hair more unkempt than Yuuri’s ever seen it in his life, completely covering one eye and sticking up in all directions. There are still circles under his eyes, and maybe he looks a little thinner than last time Yuuri had the time to notice. He’s in his black thong, too, and how _weird_ is it that Yuuri’s in Victor’s house, poking around Victor’s things, and yet the most comforting and familiar sight here is Victor in that damned thong.

“Ah.” Yuuri’s brain spins as it tries to figure out what to say, which of the hundreds of questions in his head are the most important to ask now. “Um. Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been poking around, but I didn’t want to wake you up and I was curious—”

Victor strides forward, closing the small gap between them and throwing his arms around Yuuri in a grip so tight that it might have hurt or choked him if Yuuri were really there.

But even if he were actually there, he wouldn’t care.

Yuuri settles a little with the weight of Vitya on him, more familiar than anyone else’s hug at this point. He slowly, tentatively, hugs Vitya back, tucking his face into Vitya’s neck as he, in turn, presses his face into Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri missed this. He’s not sure how, because he’s been in Victor’s arms nearly constantly the past few times he can remember being conscious. At this rate he’s going to be as clingy as Vitya is, but… that doesn’t sound too bad right now.

Though he _really_ should have been more careful and let Vitya sleep going by the bags under his eyes.

“I’m really sorry about waking you up, I would have let you sleep,” Yuuri murmurs against Vitya’s skin. It’s so weird—Yuuri’s used to Vitya not being hot or cold, but he can’t feel anything else either, now. He can’t feel his own heartbeat, he can’t taste anything, temperature might as well not exist. But in a weird way he’s happy that Vitya gets his turn to feel more, now.

Vitya huffs softly. “Yuuri, don’t worry about it. You didn’t mean to. In fact, Yura almost took himself out trying to get into that cabinet once, I should really rearrange it.”

“But _still_.” Yuuri frowns. He’s should’ve been quieter and poked around less. It’s not like everyone expects what’s practically a ghost to just show up in their apartment, Victor couldn’t have planned for that.

“I was already up, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been up for a while.”

Yuuri pulls back just enough to squint up at Victor. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m fine, Yuuri! It’s just… you know it can get in the off season. Settling into a more normal routine always throws me off.” Victor gives him a smile and… oh. It’s fake. Probably the fakest smile that Victor’s ever given Yuuri, and it makes Yuuri’s stomach curdle and turn. This isn’t right. Yuuri probably deserves it but Victor—_Vitya_ doesn’t deserve having to put on a face around anyone. But before Yuuri can get in a word, he’s continuing, “Besides, Yuuri! Of course I’d want you to wake me up. Especially if you were bored enough to be snooping.”

“I-I didn’t mean to snoop.” Though that is what he was doing, technically. He _really_ needs to think about things more.

“Well, why were you poking around my kitchen? Are… Are you hungry?” Victor asks, sounding more and more unsure as the words come out of his mouth, his smile getting thinner and more strained.

Yuuri frowns, but… he’s not sure how to deal with this. And if he’s learned anything, it’s that rushing headlong into things probably isn’t the best way to go about anything. He’ll just have to watch and be careful. “Um, well… I don’t think I can be hungry. Right? Y-you’d know more about this than me. I’d think.”

Victor stares at him blankly for a moment before nodding and pulling away a bit more. “Right.”

This is… weird. Too weird. Not like Vitya. Yuuri frowns, reaching up to brush some of the hair from Vitya’s forehead. “Are you all right?”

Victor’s mouth goes slack for one second—like he’s shocked, like he expected Yuuri to _not_ notice how weird he’s being—before that same, terrible smile spreads across his face. “Of course I am, Yuuri, why would you think I’m not?”

Something in Yuuri’s gut sinks. “Because you have those shadows under your eyes. And… and you’re not acting like yourself.”

“I already told you why I’m tired, _Yuuri._” At least the way that Victor says Yuuri’s name is somewhat normal, though maybe that’s just habit at this point. “And maybe that’s just because you haven’t been here with me in Saint Petersburg before.”

Vitya is still Vitya no matter where he is, but… This isn’t going anywhere. Vitya’s determined to avoid Yuuri’s questions, it seems. He’ll try again later when all of this is less fresh and strange, and Vitya’s less weirdly defensive.

“Um.” Yuuri glances behind him, at the mess of pots and pans that are behind him. “Yeah. You have a nice place.”

Vitya perks up a bit, and Yuuri bites back a sigh of relief—if Vitya’s preening, not all is lost. “I’m happy you like it, Yuuri! And I’m… I’m so happy to see you.” If Vitya’s voice is a little rougher than it was before, well, Yuuri doesn’t blame him.

“Is… Do you know what’s going on? In Japan. With…” With Yuuri, with his injury, with his family and friends and his life. He doesn’t want to know, but he _needs_ to.

“Oh!” There’s that smile again, and Yuuri’s not sure what it means here, in this conversation. “Yura said that Yuuko’s heard that you’re stable, and they’re hoping for you to wake up any day.”

“I… I haven’t woken up?” Yuuri hardly dares to ask. “Not even… not even a little?”

That smile falters for one second, everything about Vitya _drooping_ until he recovers and is back to normal. Well, as normal as he can be with that… that _mask_ of a smile. “Not that I’ve heard of, but I don’t know if Yuuko isn’t passing along everything, or if Yura isn’t telling me everything. From what I understand, you should recover!”

But he _hasn’t_.

If… If he doesn’t even stir, then what is he going to do? What is his family going to do with him? He dragged his feet on going home for _five years_, spent weeks with them, and now might never be able to talk to them again. He thought he regretted all his decisions before, but that has _nothing_ on the terror that laces cold and debilitating through his veins.

“Yuuri.” Victor lets go of him, then takes hold of Yuuri’s face and tilts it until their eyes meet. “You’re here now. You were at the ice rink yesterday. That means that something has to be changing and improving, right?”

It was only yesterday.

A large breath whooshes from Yuuri’s lungs. His two weeks aren’t up, yet. And that might not even be _true_. He doesn’t know _anything_. But maybe… maybe Vitya’s right. “Okay. Yeah. Right. You’re right.”

The smile that spreads across Vitya’s face is a little more earnest, and Yuuri could cry at the sight. “I know I’m right! Now, let’s clean this up, shall we? I should get to the rink.”

Yuuri frowns. “Didn’t you say that your schedule’s off from it being the off season?”

Victor lets him go, throwing Yuuri a wink instead. “A champion never rests.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.” Not that Yuuri can judge too much on that front, but still.

“Yakov doesn’t stop me!” Victor shrugs, and Yuuri has vivid flashbacks to every interview Yakov has lost his temper about how impossible Victor is to manage. That seems to still hold true, at least. “Come on, let’s clean this up, and then we’ll head off. Unless you want to stay here…?”

“No! No, I’ll, um, go to the rink. With you.” Yuuri tries not to be disappointed that he’s not even sure Victor _wants_ him to go along, but he can’t say it words. Before he can think too much about it, they move together toward the mess of pans and start sliding them back where they belong, quietly but together.

Though the silence isn’t exactly comfortable. It’s heavy in a way that Yuuri’s never felt with Victor before, and he’s not sure if it’s the fact that he’s in a coma, or those false-bright smiles Victor keeps giving him, or the fact that everything feels _wrong _and maybe Yuuri’s just projecting onto the situation.

But the task is done before Yuuri can decide, and Victor disappears into the bathroom to get ready, grabs his things, and then… they’re off.

And Yuuri’s unsure what to do about _anything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so, so kind, thank you all so much. <3 I'm slowly catching up on responding to comments, and honestly I don't know what I did to deserve you all!!! For those concerned: me keeping with my posting schedule is very important to me, and also gives me a sense of moving forward, so I swear I'm not pushing myself too much. Before I dipped my feet into writing for fandom, I followed a fic that posted weekly and tbh having that new content to look forward to was what kept me plodding along at life and eventually got me back into creating again. So paying it forward is extremely important to me and I like to keep at it whenever I can. :D
> 
> Btw the two weeks thing is a lie, Yuuri’s just panicking. You have a lot longer before no activity is a huge problem—and Yuuri’s already showing signs of recovery and brain activity, like, you know. Projecting and being conscious half-way around the world. As one does. 
> 
> I SWEAR THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING
> 
> Bless both [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being saints, and thank all of you for continuing to read and support and in general being absolutely fantastic!
> 
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	21. Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Possible Eating TW:**
> 
> _Yurio mentions how Victor’s been bad about eating breakfasts (eating, but not enough), as a symptom of his depression. If you need/want any more details, please don’t hesitate to ask!_

Yuuri spends most of the short walk to the ice rink trying _not_ to do math.

Normally this isn’t a problem. Who _likes _to do math? Not Yuuri. The math courses he had to take in college were the _worst_ part of his entire college career—which is saying something.

But his mind can’t stop doing the math of the time difference between Saint Petersburg and Hasetsu.

He looked it up sometimes as a teenager, of course he did. And traveling so much as a skater made it so some time zones just stick in his head.

Which means that he can’t ignore the fact that it’s the afternoon in Japan

If he were able to wake up, he should be awake.

But he’s not. He’s definitely not.

Victor points things out occasionally, noting some historical landmarks or his favorite places to grab food, but it’s almost like an afterthought. Not enthusiastic and happy chattering like he usually does, but then again, nothing’s been usual since Yuuri’s woken up. Nothing’s been usual for a long, long time, and just gets more unusual by the day.

But maybe it’s just because this is normal for Victor, maybe it’s because it’s his hometown, and it’s same old, same old, and he isn’t thinking about telling Yuuri about things. Even if Yuuri knows that Victor isn’t like Yuuri, he doesn’t space out and fold into himself like Yuuri always does. Yuuri would probably get too caught up in his head to show Victor around Hasetsu properly. He never assumed Victor would be like this, but…

There’s just… there’s too much going on in his brain between his injury, and Victor being weird, and everything being so _off_. He needs a distraction, but he doesn’t know how to ask, or if he can ask, or if he’ll just get one of Victor’s fake smiles again, and—

“Here we are!” Victor says, trying for cheerful but sounding more tired than anything as he gestures at the giant building in front of them.

It’s another familiar image, this giant building with its Russian flags. How weird that Yuuri managed to see the inside before he saw the outside.

Oh no, he was _naked_ on the ice, wasn’t he? Yuuri wrinkles his nose. Vitya might be okay wandering around totally naked, and Yuuri grew up where public nudity is a comfortable and natural thing, but there’s a line. And being naked on the ice is that line.

But Victor continues on, oblivious to Yuuri’s dilemma, and Yuuri scrambles after him. 

At least, even if he can’t feel the chill of the rink—which is probably a good thing considering he’s in a flimsy hospital gown—he can smell it. It’s a weird thing to take comfort in, but an ice rink always smells like an ice rink, no matter where in the world it is. This one may have a bit of a fresher, sharper smell than Ice Castle, but it carries the same sort of comfort that all the rinks that Yuuri’s ever been in have.

Honestly, he sometimes wonders if he would have been able to stick with skating this long if there wasn’t the comfort of the smell and the ice surrounding him.

Not that it’s always comforting. Spiraling thoughts still latch on and don’t let go sometimes. Like when your family calls and tells you that your dragon, one of your best friends, your _soulmate_ has gotten worse and his health is deteriorating and that he might not make it long enough for you to even get home, right before your free skate at the Grand Prix Final. He gets why they called, he wanted to know, but…Well, maybe the impulsive, bad decisions are a hereditary thing.

There are more people in this ice rink than in Hasetsu, and even more than in Detroit, but that’s to be expected considering that the building houses three individual rinks. A few people stop and greet Victor or wave to him, but Victor doesn’t stop and talk, only waving back and giving them the same smile he’s been giving Yuuri.

It seems so… impersonal. Not that Yuuri’s been close to people at his own rink, but he’d stop and chat with most of them. Phichit or Yuuko always sniffs him out almost right away. This is…

“_You_!”

Yuuri nearly jumps out of his skin as he enters the locker room—before relief floods him.

“Yurio!” A grin spreads across Yuuri’s face as the angry teenager storms toward him. At least someone’s acting normal around him, even if “normal” for Yurio means a lot of anger and yelling. “It’s good to see you.”

“What the fuck you think you can just waltz in here like—” Yurio jabs a finger at Yuuri and—_ Oh._

Yurio’s finger sinks into Yuuri’s semi-translucent chest, and that’s very, very strange. It’s almost not noticeable, except it feels… staticky, almost a little ticklish in an uncomfortable sort of way. The string between them still pops to life though, and if anything it’s more solid than before in an ironic sort of way.

“Why the hell is _he_ able to be solid, and _you’re_ not?” Yurio asks like Victor’s not a few feet away from them, changing clothes.

And, honestly, Yuuri’s seen Victor naked a _lot_, the sight of him shirtless in a locker room should not make him flush even a little.

So of course his face is completely red. He shouldn’t be able to feel the heat, but he still can still _feel_ the blush, somehow.

“Um.” Yuuri’s eyes flicker back to Yurio looks at him with such disgust that Yuuri almost snorts. “Well. Vitya, he… he became that _thing_.”

Yurio waves his hand. “Yeah, that’s probably just his magic.”

“His _what_?” Yuuri turns back to Victor, who gives him another vapid smile.

“Did you know Yurio and I were related?” Victor comments, his eyes firmly staying on his things and what he’s doing by his locker. “We share the fae side of our family. My aunt is—or, well, she _was_— an ice fae. I didn’t inherit much from her, but…”

“Is that why… your hair?” Yuuri winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Of all the dumb, pointless questions.

“I’m not sure!” Victor gives a shrug.

“Does it even fucking matter? Of all the things we need we need to talk about, it’s _not_ Victor’s not-magic and his weird hair color,” Yurio growls. “God this is such a damn mess.”

“That’s an understatement.” Yuuri gives a sigh, reaching up and running his hand through his hair. He kind of wishes he had a tie for it, but it doesn’t really matter that much, anyway. What’s he going to get up to while he doesn’t even exist that he’ll need to tie it up for?

Victor stills for a moment, but by the time Yuuri looks at him, he’s moving again.

“Um. How’s Yuuko?” Yuuri asks, even though his eyes still linger on Vitya.

“She’ll be better when she hears you’re here. Listen,” Yurio leans in a little closer, “Yakov’s gonna kill me if I don’t get into the rink soon, but after practice we’re talking. Got it?”

Yuuri nods.

“Good. Don’t you _dare_ go disappearing again.” And then Yurio stomps off from Yuuri, through the door.

Victor turns toward Yuuri, finally—and then his ever-present smile goes strained. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Yuuri glances around, trying to see if Yurio dropped anything, but the locker room looks as clean as locker rooms ever are.

“_That_.” Victor points firmly toward Yuuri’s hand, a note of something fragile in his voice.

“Ah.” Yuuri raises his hand, finding that bright orange string still hanging off it, heading off toward and through the wall toward where Yurio must be. “Yeah. He was, uh, kinda trying to beat me up when he met me? But when he touched me, this popped into existence and… well, he got a little less aggressive and I survived.”

Victor hums, his eyes losing focus slightly. “So that’s why he’s so fond of you.”

Yuuri frowns. “I mean, that’s part of it. But I don’t think soulmate marks would really change Yurio’s mind about anything. Not to mention, you can have an enemy soulmate or something like that. It doesn’t really mean anything.”

Victor’s eyes snap to focus, landing on Yuuri and searing through him. “Yes, they _do_ mean something, Yuuri.”

“I-I didn’t mean…” Yuuri takes a step back, swallowing. “O-of course they mean something. They only pop up when that person matters to you, but it doesn’t _define_ your relationship.”

That smile spreads across Victor’s face, tighter than ever. “Of course, Yuuri. Let’s head out to the rink.”

“Um.” Yuuri blinks up at Victor, at that false expression—that mask. They’re not going to get anywhere if they don’t try to talk,and Victor’s keeping them moving and running so they can barely to that. Yuuri was going to wait until a better time, but he’s beginning to realize that a better time might not actually come. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vitya. You don’t— You never have to hide it from me if I say something wrong. Because I say the wrong thing a _lot_, and I don’t want to hurt you. N-not again.” He barely whispers the last words, but he knows Vitya hears them by how he tenses.

For a moment, the smile fades and Yuuri’s sure that he broke through whatever this front is, but then Victor’s eyes flick down to the hospital gown that Yuuri’s still in, and the grin springs back to life. “You haven’t hurt me, Yuuri!”

“Now _that’s_ a lie.” Yuuri stands up a little straighter. “Why are you— Why are you _like_ this?”

“But, Yuuri. This is just me. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?” Victor’s smile stretches even farther.

He said he wanted Victor to be himself—to be dorky, and picky, and whiny, and everything that comes with Vitya. This is like… some airbrushed, photoshopped version of him. “This isn’t…” Yuuri clears his throat. How can he tell Vitya he’s not being _himself_? He’s not sure about a lot of things but this isn’t right. Will Victor be insulted if Yuuri says that to his face? That Victor isn’t being himself? Does he even _know_ he’s not being himself?

Loud shouting echoes through the room from the other side of the door, effectively cutting off all of Yuuri’s rambling thoughts and his chance to respond.

Victor sighs, yelling something back in Russian before switching to English to say, “Well, I’ve already pushed Yakov too far and I haven’t even touched the ice. It should be a fun day! Are you ready to meet everyone, Yuuri?”

“But I’m in a hospital gown,” Yuuri blurts, and then almost laughs at himself. No one can see the hospital gown, because no one can see _him_. Except Yurio, for some reason, but he could see Victor back in the Ice Castle. Still, he can’t meet anyone like this. Vitya’s being ridiculous, but not in the way that he normally is. No, it’s worse.

He’s being Victor. Not Vitya. It’s like Yuuri’s irrational fear of Victor Nikiforov treating him differently than his Vitya did wasn’t irrational at all and partially came true. Only partially because Victor wasn’t like this right after Yuuri had to come to terms with the truth. In Yuuri’s room, he was still Vitya. When he was that giant, white thing, he was still Vitya. Even when he woke up in this rink, he seemed like Vitya.

Vitya and Victor Nikiforov are the same person, deep down Yuuri knows that. He knows that Victor is _Vitya_, his fears aren’t the truth. But that means something else happened to drive Vitya into being like this. Maybe it was this entire mess that Yuuri created. Maybe Yuuri said or did something. Maybe it has nothing to do with Yuuri—though that’s doubtful.

At least when he _knew_ what was wrong, Yuuri could figure out a way to at least apologize. But how the hell is he going to get Vitya back to being himself?

Victor looks Yuuri over, eyes lingering on the flimsy hospital gown. “Well, I was running around naked the first day I showed up in Detroit. At least this is an improvement!”

“I—sure. Yeah.” Yuuri lets out a big huff of air. It’s not like he can change clothes—he doesn’t know if he can take off clothes like this, and it’s not like anything else would stay on him with so many eyes around. Vitya’s right, at least this is an improvement on being naked, even if everything else is terrible. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

A small frown spreads across Victor’s face as he watches Yuuri slump, but as always, it doesn’t stay there long. “You’ll love them, and they won’t be able to see your clothes so it doesn’t matter anyway. They won’t even be able to see you in general, they’ll just know you’re there! Nothing to be worried about.”

Yuuri finally lets out a snort at that. What _isn’t_ there to worry about_. _But he gives a shrug, anyway. “Lead the way.”

Victor’s eyes linger just a second too long before he nods, and leads them out toward the rink. 

It’s the same one that Yuuri was in before—or at least, as far as he can tell without his glasses. Maybe each rink looks exactly the same. But he doesn’t have too much time to check things out before a short, red-faced man is stomping over toward them, spouting off in Russian so loud that Yuuri’s almost sure that his ears are ringing.

In response, Victor just waves a hand. “I have an excuse today, Yakov! Yuuri’s here again.”

Yakov sneers, eyes searching behind Vitya but not settling on anything. “That scum that’s been yanking you around, destroying your motivation, and distracting you from your skating?”

Yuuri sucks in a breath, taking a step back as tears prick in his eyes. He… he deserves that. He definitely deserves that. But he’s suddenly very, very grateful that no one can see him or touch him, because otherwise Yakov might have murdered him already.

Victor reaches out, back toward Yuuri, but his hand only falls through him. There’s no flicker in his mask though. If anything, his smile burns with even more fake happiness. “He’s not a bad person, Yakov! Please don’t insult my soulmate.”

“You act like because he’s your only one, he can do no wrong. But he _can_.”Yakov leans in even closer, lowering his voice for once. “Do you remember what happened between Lilia and me?”

Victor winces, but that’s his only reaction. “Of course I do, Yakov. That’s why I moved out.”

Oh. Yuuri remembers thinking that Victor moving out was adult and cool, not because of—

_Wait_. Did Yakov just say he was Victor’s _only soulmate_?

Which means…

And then Yuuri…

Oh no. No, no, no.

It was so easy to assume that Victor Nikiforov has so many people that loved him, especially after meeting him and knowing him. He had to have dozens. Yuuri’s family and small circle of friends would be nothing to the empire that Victor must have. It was always a bit of gossip that Victor didn’t have any visible soulmate marks, but it’s not like that’s not unheard of. Most of Yuuri’s besides his family’s aren’t visible to anyone else.

But Victor doesn’t have that.

He has no one other than Yuuri.

And now…

Yuuri’s vision starts swimming, but Yuuri focuses on his breathing. He can’t let this happen, not right now, not here.

“Oy, Katsudon,” a voice whispers near his ear.

Yuuri blinks back to the present. Victor and Yakov are still bickering back and forth, now in Russian, but Yurio’s come up next to him, and once he catches Yuuri’s eye, motions for him to come a little further away from the two.

“Yurio?” Yuuri asks once they stop moving. “What’s wrong? And— And now that I’m thinking about it, why can only you and Victor see me?”

“Part fae, remember? You know that’s probably why you two are presenting so weird as soulmates. Since he’s related and all.” Yurio scowls. “I guess I’ll jot that down for if I ever meet a weird soulmate. Don’t be like the idiots.”

“And you didn’t think of that before? That that was the reason behind all the weird stuff?” Yuuri’s brow furrows.

“It’s not like Victor’s got any obvious fae powers. The only time I’ve ever heard about them acting up was that he had a small snowstorm above his head for a few hours when his mom—” Yurio’s mouth snaps shut. “That doesn’t matter. I didn’t come over here to talk about _that_.”

“Oh.” Yuuri blinks, and once again finds a little comfort that absolutely _nothing_ has changed between him and Yurio, despite everything else. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Something’s not always _wrong_, you know.” Yurio sighs. “I just… did Victor eat a real breakfast this morning?”

Yuuri blinks. “What?”

“The moron hasn’t been eating lately. I mean, he eats enough to get by. He _is_ an athlete, but he just…” Yurio sighs. “He says he forgets so he just eats a protein bar, and he probably does forget because he’s a ditz. But he’s a moron. You’re both morons.”

That’s an understatement, but not exactly the most important thing to argue about right now. Yuuri wraps an arm around his middle. “Has he been doing this long?”

“Well, before he met you, kinda. He was more likely to, but he was still shitty at it.” Yurio glances behind Yuuri, probably at the two arguing voices reverberating around the rink. “And then after… you know. He’s just too forgetful and he’s too focused on skating for his own good, sometimes.”

Yuuri winces. “Yeah. I-I’ll try to make him eat a proper breakfast. But…”

Yurio’s eyes flick to Yuuri. “But _what_?”

“Um. Has he been acting weird lately? Weirder than usual?”

Yurio snorts. “He’s been worried out of his mind about you. Things have gotten worse on that front, but no, he’s normal otherwise. Why, what is he doing?”

Yuuri just barely resists the urge to turn around and see what expression’s on Victor’s face, any hint of what Yurio means—but he’s afraid at what he might see. “He’s just… I know it’s ridiculous when I say it out loud. But he’s faking his smiles, and he’s pretending like everything’s okay when it’s not. And he’s just… he’s hiding.”

“Yeah, that’s what he’s like.” Yurio crosses his arms. “Sometimes he’s a little more real, but he’s _Victor Nikiforov _otherwise. He was better earlier this year, but not so much anymore.”

Not so much since Yuuri fucked everything up, he’d guess. Yuuri sighs, running his free hand through his hair. This really is a mess of his own making, isn’t it?

“Listen, all right?” Yurio jabs a finger at him, frowning when it strengthens the orange string between them. “You have to fix this since you fucked it up, yeah. But if anyone can make things better, it’s you. You’re the only one that’s been able to break that stupid wall he keeps up between him and us all the time. So, you know. Do it again.”

Yuuri manages to give Yurio a shaking smile. He wasn’t expecting the grumpy teenager to be his biggest cheerleader in this, but he’ll happily take it. “Thank you, Yurio.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Yurio mutters, as Yakov’s screaming picks up behind them, getting closer. “Look, I’ve gotta go but just…” Yurio looks up, almost vulnerable for a moment before the sneer comes back. “Just put on some clothes, all right?”

“I can’t.” Yuuri shrugs. “I only show up in whatever I’m wearing when I fall asleep. The same thing happened with Victor.”

Yurio’s mouth falls open, his eyes bugging. “Doesn’t he sleep _naked_?”

Oh no, how does _Yurio_ know that? Yuuri groans, placing his face in his hands. “He used to. Unfortunately. Yeah.”

“_Gross_.” Yurio groans and sneers before Yakov shouts again and Yurio answers in a biting scream, “Yeah, I’m coming! Stop yelling about it!”

And Yurio goes, leaving Yuuri both feeling more and less settled than he was when he came to the rink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yurio is the goodest boy send tweet. (I swear we won't be staying in this dark place forever, the 40k of fluff at the end isn't a lie!)
> 
> As always, [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) are amazing and deserve all the love! And thank you so, so much to everyone reading, and especially people who've left kind comments while things have been especially rocky for me. You guys are amazing. <3
> 
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	22. Twenty-Two

“Katsuki.”

Yuuri can’t feel heat, and yet any semblance of warm happiness seeps out of him as if Yakov Feltsman is a sponge that sucks away anything good. Yurio’s barely left him to step onto the ice, and Yuuri’s hardly had a minute to breath and process _anything_. He’s not ready for this, but it looks like he has to be. “Y-yes coach?”

But Yakov’s eyes don’t settle on him, of course they don’t. So far in Russia no one’s heard him other than Yurio, and before this no one heard or even saw Vitya other than the one time at the rink. 

“I assume you actually exist and Vitya hasn’t lost his mind because Yura has come over here to talk to you.” Yakov turns away from the general direction of where Yuuri stands, instead staring out across the rink. Maybe it’s easier to talk to the ice than the nothingness of where Yuuri is. “But Vitya has told many stories of you, and I must make sure. At my feet, there’s a water bottle on my left side. If you crouch down, you will have no eyes on you. Move it to my right side. Please.” He adds on the last word like he’s unsure whether it should be there or not.

Yuuri could just not do anything. If he doesn’t move the water bottle, then Yakov won’t know he’s there.

But he’ll think that two of his skaters are losing their minds or pranking him. Yuuri’s had _more_ than enough of his own insecurities and struggles about dragging down everyone around him to last a lifetime, so he takes a deep breath and crouches down. He keeps expecting it to feel different when there are eyes on him and when there aren’t, but nothing changes other than what he can touch.

So he takes the water bottle and moves it to Yakov’s other side. He even gives Yakov’s leg a quick tap for good measure, and he can’t say he doesn’t feel a twisted delight when the old man jumps.

Yakov looks down after he’s settled, catching sight of the bottle and going stiff. “Well. It’s a good thing that they’re telling the truth. Or perhaps it isn’t.” He goes quiet for a short minute. “I am sorry about your accident. I know what the ice and what freedom means to skaters, and I know that being without it does things to you. I can only imagine what…” He waves vaguely. “_This_ must be like.

“But do not mistake my sympathy for kindness, Katsuki,” Yakov growls his name with an anger that Yuuri’s never heard directed toward him before. “Vitya has had a rough year. He’s had a rough _life_. You hurt him already, regardless of whose fault it was and what stories I hear. He is worse now than he ever was before he met you. And even if he says that it is not your fault, I am not a stupid man.

“If it were up to me, you would not be allowed in this rink or this city. But Vitya has made his demands clear, and he is a silly, silly man. So.” Yakov places his hands down on the boards, gripping them so hard that his knuckles turn white. “If you do not fix whatever you broke with him, if you hurt him again, I will make sure that you never wake up. Are we understood? Move the bottle back if you heard me.”

Yuuri’s always known Yakov Feltsman was a terrifying man. Yuuri would wither and die under a coach that yells that much, who’s so _ruthless_ when Yuuri already runs himself ragged without needing to be pushed to. He couldn’t stand someone who seems to pick out the flaws without focusing on the good. He could see how that might be necessary for a skater like Yurio, and how that would work for a younger, more energetic Victor.

But Yuuri’s more grateful than ever that meeting Yakov Feltsman is happening while the man can’t physically lay a finger on him, can’t even meet Yuuri’s eye. If Yuuri could sweat from his nerves, he’d have easily soaked through this flimsy hospital gown.

Would Yakov actually fly to Japan to murder Yuuri? Would he hire a hitman? Does he have ties to the bratva? More likely than not, he just wants to scare Yuuri into doing right—maybe this is where Yurio’s learned so many of his dealing-with-any-emotion-with-anger habits—but Yuuri would rather be safe than sorry.

Yuuri moves the bottle back to where it was and pokes Yakov’s leg again, very disappointed when he doesn’t jump this time.

Yakov glances down to see the bottle where it was and nods. “Good. I’m happy to see that at least one other person in this rink can be reasonable. Now stand up. Vitya’s coming over here, and the less he suspects, the better this will be for both of you.”

Yuuri jumps to his feet, just in time to see a slight furrow between Victor’s brow as he approaches them.

“Is everything all right?” Victor asks as he glides to the boards, though his eyes stay focused solely on Yuuri.

“Of course it’s fine. Isn’t it, Katsuki?”

Well, the short answer is no. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. But Yuuri knows now isn’t exactly the best time to talk about that, especially if he doesn’t want to be murdered by Yakov, so he forces his own small smile across his face. “Of course. It’s fine.”

Victor looks about as convinced as Yuuri feels.

* * *

One of the few things that really stand out as Yuuri sits at the sidelines of the rink is that, unlike Yuuri in Detroit, Victor is absolutely shameless in talking about Yuuri, despite how weirdly muted his reactions are.

Yuuri stands at the side of the rink, mostly ignored except for Yurio occasionally coming over to ask for advice or feedback in his usual way—aggressively. But Victor gestures toward Yuuri often while talking. He waves at Yuuri a few times. When they first got to the rink, it wasn’t even a question if he should talk about Yuuri being there or not, immediately introducing him to Yakov. Not to mention Yurio had talked about how Victor had talked about Yuuri often when it was just Victor coming to visit him in Detroit.

Yuuri’s initial reaction is to worry that people are going to think Victor’s crazy—but, no. That’s Yuuri’s own kinda dumb anxiety about his own situation. It’s not like Phichit or Mari thought he was crazy when they learned what was going on. Or, if they did, they didn’t check him into a mental hospital or whatever.

No, Victor—even if there’s something wrong with him, even though Yuuri’s constantly learning that he screwed up more than he could’ve ever imagined—he’s somehow _proud_ of Yuuri.

And it makes Yuuri’s entire being _ache_ in a way he’s never felt before, something he’s not sure he could feel so acutely if he were in his physical body. It… it’s too much. It cracks through him with a shuddering pain, and—

He can’t be here anymore. Not in this ice rink, not trapped in his confusion, in his head, he needs… he needs _something._

But he can’t leave Victor. Victor never left him, no matter how unintentionally cruel Yuuri had been, so Yuuri’s _not_ leaving Victor.

Instead, Yuuri begins to wander around the rink a little, paying more attention to the floor and the large windows than he is to the rink itself or anything in it. It’s a really nice place. Not that he expected anything less, considering it houses Russia’s ice skating champions.

Yuuri dreamed a lot about skating in this rink when he was a kid. To be honest, it’s a little surreal to be here. All of this in general is _extremely_ surreal. Yuuri’s in Victor Nikiforov’s rink, able to watch him practice and see how he works, if he wanted to. Hell, if things were different he could even _skate_ with Victor. Though he doesn’t know if he’d survive that or pass out on the spot.

It’s probably lucky, then, that he doesn’t even have the option to. Unless they sneak in here in the middle of the night, there are too many eyes for Yuuri to be able to skate. Victor probably doesn’t have the keys to a place like this… Though maybe he does? If _anyone_ would, it’d be Victor. But then Yuuri doesn’t even have his own skates, and if Victor’s not taking care of himself as it is, Yuuri shouldn’t be encouraging any late-night skating. Not to mention the only routine Yuuri can skate confidently is Stammi Vicino…

But what a fantasy it would’ve been of Yuuri’s—even a year ago—to skate one of Victor’s routines, in Victor’s rink, for Victor himself. The opportunity is right in front of him—

No. No, no, no, that’s way too embarrassing, and what would that say to Victor? What would he take from it? It might be fine, Victor might be able to read the message written in the lines of Yuuri’s body, to understand the passion and drive that he put into it—but he might not. Yuuri might just look _obsessed_, which, well, he kind of is. But he doesn’t want to creep Victor out. He’s hurt him enough. But he’s done enough assuming. He keeps assuming, even when he tries _not_ to. No, he has to address this directly.

But with Victor avoiding talking about things, _how_?

A large, thrumming hum sounds in front of Yuuri and he almost jumps out of his skin before noticing the giant entrance in front of him. A man-made cave.

A small smile spreads across Yuuri’s face, despite everything. “Makkachin!”

The hum sounds again, rising a little as if in question, and a large, triangular-shaped head pops out from the entrance, cooing in that deep, almost soundless way that only giant beasts seem capable of.

Yuuri strides forward, reaching out to pet her, but hesitates. She was able to touch him before, somehow, but nobody seems to be able to touch him when someone other than Yurio or Victor are looking at him.

Yuuri takes a step back, even if Makka’s head shifts in confusion, and he peeks around her and into the cave. It’s huge, and it looks like there’s an entrance on the other side to another rink, but…

Yuuri slips into the cave, partially fading through Makka enough to have the tingling make him shiver, but then he’s through her and tucked into the corner, and Makka head-butts him and—

_Oof_. If he had proper lungs right now he’d have the breath knocked right out of him. As it is, Makka just knocks him over as she lets out a chirp, and Yuuri laughs while she settles her head across his chest and torso. He coos right back at her while running his fingers through her fur. It’s a little longer than Vicchan’s, and coarser. There’s still something about it that’s distinctively _dragon_, though, and it brings the part of him that’s been treading water, head slowly sinking beneath the waves, back to the surface

“You’re such a good girl,” Yuuri murmurs, smiling at her for a moment before letting his head fall back onto the soft floor. At least dragons are simple. Most are friendly enough that Yuuri can charm them with a good scratch around their ears. Phichit’s called him a dragon-whisperer a few times and, at this point, Yuuri almost wishes that he’d chosen that as his career. Something with dragons, anyway. Maybe rescuing and training more dragons like Vicchan…

But then, maybe, he wouldn’t have met Phichit. He most definitely wouldn’t have met Victor. He probably wouldn’t have even left Japan. He would have missed out on meeting his soulmates. He wouldn’t have travelled the world. And he wouldn’t know the satisfaction of taking his final pose after a program that he can almost be proud of, the way the audience roars around him loud enough he can feel it in his bones.

Then again, he wouldn’t know the disappointment of hearing the audience gasp and groan as he falls again and again. This whole situation with Victor wouldn’t be happening. Science can’t prove much about meeting soulmates, they can’t tell if you _always_ meet all of your soulmates, or if sometimes people go through life missing some. Some magic users claim to have answers foreseen by their power, but they vary too much to be consistent.

Makka nudges her snout at Yuuri’s chin, knocking him out of his own head.

He smiles again and lets out a huff. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stop petting you.” He digs his hands into her fur again, and that deep rumbling in her chest starts up stronger than before.

No, there’s nothing Yuuri can to about what-ifs. All he has is right now. And right now is _terrifying_. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever wake up, he doesn’t know if it’s possible to make things right, he might not be able to have his family see him again, or be able to skate again…

But how many people get to grow up to find that their idol, the person they’ve admired more than anyone else, is their soulmate? How many people get the chance to pursue a dream that they had since before they even knew what a career meant? How many people get to snuggle with dragons on a daily basis?

These are all a little, well, impermanent compared to actually waking up and living life again. But with the prospect of maybe not having that ever happen looming on the horizon, for the first time Yuuri feels a little bit of satisfaction in his life. Yeah, he wishes he could have done better at everything he’s ever touched. He wishes that he didn’t let so many people down along the way. But… he could have done worse. And his family and friends still love him, _despite_ all that.

His only regret, the only thing he wants to take back and undo is all of his mistakes with Victor.

Who is luckily one of the few people that Yuuri can talk to or touch right now, but unluckily the hardest to reach.

Yuuri lets his eyes fall shut as the soothing sounds of the dragon rumbles through him. Time’s passing, he’s sure of it, but it almost doesn’t feel like it in this weird, half-lucid state. He can’t sleep like this, he knows that from Vitya, but maybe this is how Vitya spent all that time with Yuuri, in his bed. Is that what’s going to happen, here? Will Yuuri stay awake while Victor sleeps? Or…

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri sits up straight, knocking his head against Makkachin’s snout and saying “ow” out of reflex more than feeling anything.

“Oh, there you are!” There’s the tapping of fast footsteps against the floor and then blue eyes hovering over him. Victor.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I just—“ Yuuri curls his fingers into Makkachin’s fur as gently as he can, nervousness coursing through him unlike it has in a long time with Vitya.

“No, no, it’s okay Yuuri.” Victor smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes, but at least it’s not strained. “I’m happy you were able to spend some time with Makka, considering you couldn’t skate… well, assuming you wanted to skate.”

Yuuri meets Victor’s eyes. “I want to skate. I just…”

That grin stays plastered into place. “So you’ve said. I’ve finished with my practice, but if you’d like to stay with Makka…?”

Yuuri hates this. He hates these awkward questions, and how Victor’s starting to assume that Yuuri _doesn’t_ want to be with him, even though right now he’s the only person that Yuuri can talk to and touch. Even if Victor _weren’t_, Yuuri’s in a strange place, with strange things and strange people, and Victor’s a weird sort of comfort amidst everything. Yuuri _wants_ to be around Victor. Always. And he just wishes that Victor _knew_ that_._

“I want to stay with you,” Yuuri says as honestly as he can, pleased to see that Victor’s fake smile drops a little bit at the confession, his eyes widening.

Victor clears his throat, holding out his hand. “Of course, Yuuri.”

And Yuuri takes it.

“Oh, what about Yurio?” Yuuri asks as Victor gives Makkachin a good scratch, and they leave the cave—and Yuuri’s hand falls through Victor.

Victor gives their hands the same, offended look he’d given them that day at the carnival, ages ago—okay, maybe more like weeks ago—and it’s even if it isn’t a happy expression, it’s nice to see something familiar in Victor after such a stressful day.

Victor shakes it off quickly enough, though. “Ah, I talked to him before coming to get you, and then he stormed out. So maybe tomorrow?”

Yuuri almost asks what Victor said to make Yurio angry, but honestly, _he_ probably doesn’t know, so he’ll ask Yurio tomorrow. “Okay.”

Yuuri trails along as Victor changes, _not_ following him into the shower. He’s a little surprised Victor doesn’t teasingly ask Yuuri to join him after the number of times he pouted when Yuuri would shower without him in Detroit, but… Well, things are different.

So they leave the building and—

_Oh_.

It’s _dark_.

“How long were we here for?” Yuuri asks, hopping down the steps after Victor.

Victor tilts his head. “Well, I’m not entirely sure. I just stay until Yakov threatens to physically remove me from the rink.” He smiles a little like it’s an inside joke, like that’s funny.

And not that Yuuri’s really one to judge, he’s hit that point before due to sheer desperation—but it’s the _off season_. “Victor, that’s not healthy.”

Victor stiffens, and Yuuri belatedly realizes he’s slipped back into using Victor instead of Vitya. His smile is the most strained that Yuuri’s ever seen. “Maybe you’ve just spent too long a time away from the ice Yuuri. I keep the schedule that I _can_ keep and that I _need_ to keep. I’m a champion for a reason.”

But Victor won’t be a champion for long if he hurts himself. And he _will_ hurt himself like this. Yuuri wants to bite out a sharp response, but after today, after everything… It just hurts too much, and he can’t gather the energy to pick a fight right now. “I just… I’m worried about you.”

Victor sucks in a breath, eyes flicking ahead. Yuuri catches him clenching and unclenching his fists out of the corner of his eye, but that false cheer stays in place. “Well then, don’t! I promise I’ve been taking care of myself much longer than I’ve known you, and I will long after.”

Yuuri’s breath stutters in his chest.

Victor… Victor’s planning on an _after_. Of course he is, after everything that Yuuri’s put him through. Why wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t Yuuri be, in his shoes?

“Vitya,” Yuuri just barely manages to get the word out. “Do you want me to go?”

For a second Victor blinks down at Yuuri, looking almost as horrified as Yuuri feels, before that _damned smile_ comes back. “Oh, no! I didn’t mean that you had to go, just that you would eventually. That’s how life goes, isn’t it? No one stays forever. Anyway, I’m sorry that today was so boring as your first day in Saint Petersburg, just going to the rink and back. But my next rest day I’ll show you around. How does that sound?”

“O-Okay,” Yuuri almost whispers, wishing that he could reach out and take Victor’s hand even though there are too many people around. Victor has to look crazy talking to nothing, but he still doesn’t stop. He never stops showing Yuuri he cares, even when he’s like this.

And Yuuri… Yuuri _needs_ to show him that he cares. For the first time that day, something hot and burning grows inside of him, consuming him with the need to do _something_. And he’s not sure what exactly he _can_ do, but he’ll do anything and everything that comes to mind, everything he hopes Victor can see as the truth.

They get to Victor’s apartment with hardly any issue—the walk between the rink and his place is even shorter than the one between the onsen and the Ice Castle. Victor makes dinner, almost offering some to Yuuri before catching himself, and Yuuri almost makes fun of Victor for how bland the food looks before _he_ catches himself. It’s a little awkward, even as Yuuri tries to fill in the gaps of conversation, but it’s just… hard. Victor’s obviously very tired, and he doesn’t even sit and read or watch TV before heading off to bed.

Yuuri wants to be surprised when Victor doesn’t invite him into the room to sleep in the same bed as him, but he’s not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh now I kinda want to write an AU about dragon-trainer/vet Yuuri who meets Victor traveling to Russia to help with something with Makkachin. Maybe I'll do that someday. 👀
> 
> Bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for putting up with my word vomit, and thank you all so, so much for continuing to read!!! I swear that the pain won't continue forever, these boys deserve their softeness.
> 
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	23. Twenty-Three

Yuuri spends most of the night laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking. He’s really limited in what he can do what with being unable to talk to most people, not having money, and more often than not just sliding through anything he tries to touch if he’s not isolated.

Luckily he can talk to Yurio, which is going to be one of his first priorities when he gets to the rink—even if he’s not entirely sure what exactly he’s going to say yet. 

But for now, as the sun barely begins to peek over the horizon, it’s time to initiate phase one of his make-Victor-feel-loved plan.

He gets up, shuffling toward the kitchen, but… it feels strange? Yuuri freezes, wondering if things are feeling different because his actual body is getting better—or _worse_—and then he looks down at himself.

He’s not in a hospital gown. That’s what feels so weird. Maybe he’s just groggy in the morning no matter if he does or doesn’t sleep, because he _should_ have felt how the edge of the gown wasn’t constantly brushing against his thighs and the absence of the uncomfortable fabric. Then again, it’s pretty hard to feel very much in general, so maybe he can cut himself some slack.

Still, it’ll nice not to be wandering around Saint Petersburg in a hospital gown. He’s got on a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a slightly oversized light blue t-shirt with the Ice Castle chibis—including one of Vicchan—on it. He’s even wearing socks, though they’re mismatched. He’ll have to ask Yurio later if there’s any reason they changed his clothes.

It's a weird but small comfort that he won't be cooking nearly naked, even he probably wouldn't be able to feel any burns or cuts he might accidentally inflict on himself.

Throughout years of helping out in the onsen, Yuuri’s learned that breakfast is kinda hard to cook. Not because the food is difficult to prepare, Yuuri has plenty of experience with Japanese breakfast and basic western-style stuff. But because most people are super picky in the morning because they’re still half-asleep and cranky.

And, unfortunately, though Victor’s rambled at Yuuri about a lot of random things, breakfast wasn’t one of them. He was never there in the mornings to talk about it with Yuuri, so it just never came up.

So… Yuuri pokes around where he remembers food being yesterday. The most stereotypical western breakfast that Yuuri can think of is eggs and bacon and toast. Unsurprisingly, considering his diet, Victor doesn’t have bacon, but he _does_ have eggs, and some fancy multigrain bread, and he remembers seeing a toaster…

So Yuuri sets to work, _very carefully_ grabbing a pan from the cupboard that started yesterday’s distress. He’s not sure what Victor’s usual time to get up is, but if he was running a little late to the point where Yakov yelled at him for it yesterday, maybe Yuuri still has _some_ time…

Victor walks out just as Yuuri places the plate down beside the silverware he’d set on the island in front of the kitchen—Victor doesn’t seem to have a proper dining area, which baffles Yuuri, but, well. Not everyone grows up in an onsen.

“Oh.” Victor looks a little more put together this morning, already in clothes. It’s weird to miss the thong. And _not_ because it’s hot or anything, but because it’s so familiar to Yuuri. Victor stares at the plate and frowns, reaching up to gently rub one of his eyes. “I normally eat a protein bar at the rink, you didn’t need to make me breakfast.”

Ah. He doesn’t want it. Something heavy and uncomfortable settles in Yuuri’s stomach as it sinks in that he must have overstepped. This isn’t his home, this isn’t his food. He shouldn’t have assumed that it was okay. Maybe he was saving these eggs or this bread for something.

Except…

Except that Yurio even said that Victor doesn’t eat a full breakfast often, meaning that the dumb protein bar isn’t enough. Yuuri knows how many calories an average athlete burns, and a that isn’t going to cover it for very long.

Yuuri points a finger at Victor, ignoring how much it makes him feel like Yurio. “You and I both know that isn’t enough for an athlete of your caliber. You’re worrying Yurio with how little you eat in the morning.”

Victor stiffens, eyes flicking up to Yuuri. “I— What?”

“One of the first things he asked me yesterday was if you’d eaten, and you definitely didn’t eat at home.” Yuuri lowers his hands to his hips. “So, sit! Eat!” Yuuri gestures at the island and the stool there.

That damned, fake grin pops up on his face. “Ah, but if I do, I’ll be late, and Yakov will—”

“_Vitya_.” Yuuri barely resists rolling his eyes. “You and I both know you do what you want regardless of what Yakov says most of the time. You can’t keep using Yakov as an excuse.”

A touch of pink spreads across the bridge of Victor’s nose, and Yuuri honestly can’t take his eyes off of it. “Ah. I-I just… You really shouldn’t have, Yuuri.”

“Yeah?” Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Victor matches Yuuri’s raised eyebrow with his own. “I can take care of myself.”

“And I can take care of you, too.” Yuuri pauses, and then wrinkles his nose. “Now sit down and eat. You’re making me sound like my mother.”

Victor smiles again, and—_oh_. It’s small and it’s soft and it’s _real_. Yuuri’s not sure he’s ever seen a sight so lovely. He sits down while Yuuri stares dumbly, taking a hold of the utensils that Yuuri laid out haphazardly. Yuuri’s too used to chopsticks, despite having lived in America for so long.

“That’s not a bad thing, you know,” Victor says, popping a piece of egg into his mouth. “I remember loving your mother when I was a kid. How you talked about her and the stories you told made her seem so lovely, even when you were angry about something she did. I don’t remember meeting her, of course, but I used to daydream about your family adopting me.”

“They would have, given half the chance,” Yuuri answers honestly. Yuuri’s family has always embraced every part of him; Victor would be no different. “But it probably would have been hard as a kid. It’s not like traveling to a new country to meet them would be easy, what with a foreign language, and who knows what your parents would do…”

“I never knew my father, and I haven’t seen much of my mother since I was nine.” Victor shrugs, his eyes on his food. “I lived with Yakov and his wife from then on.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes, sharply wishing he could take his earlier words back. He… he can’t even imagine. It’s hard enough for him to cope with life while having a family that loves and adores him, he can’t wrap his mind around not having that. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Don’t worry!” Victor’s smile strains at the edges. “I could’ve had it much worse.”

So could _everybody_. You can always look around and find someone with something subjectively “worse.” Yuuri knows this well, it’s a rabbit hole he goes down often. And though Yuuri’s always known he’s lucky, it strikes him how spoiled he’s been with his family and friends and soulmates his whole life.

And Victor… apparently Yuuri is Victor’s only soulmate. It still feels impossible in Yuuri’s brain—but there’s one way to clear that up.

“Um…” Yuuri clears his throat, leaning against the counter behind him. “Is it really true that I’m your only soulmate?”

Victor blinks up at Yuuri, taking a moment to swallow some egg and toast before answering, “Yes. Or at least, if anyone else has been my soulmate, it hasn’t been significant enough for either of us to notice. It makes the connection between us all the more interesting, I think.”

Except both of them had managed to shove their connection away at one point or another, and… and with how Victor’s acting now, it’s honestly a miracle that Yuuri’s even able to show up in this apartment. Yuuri doesn’t know too much about soulmates beyond the fact that they exist, but maybe they’re more tentative and fragile than he realized.

Which means that his and Victor’s connection is _incredibly_ resilient. Well, if he’s learned anything about either of them, stubborn’s a good way to describe how they can both be.

“It’s just… I’ve never met anyone without any other soulmates before.” Yuuri winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth—he’d been doing so _good _thinking about what he was saying. “I-I mean, I know they exist. I know not everyone has a lot of connections—”

“How many do you have, Yuuri?” Victor smiles mildly, without much feeling behind it.

It must be a conversation Victor’s had hundreds of times. Yuuri was shocked at how open America was about talking about soulmates and connections constantly, like they were nothing when it was always something quietly accepted and revered in Yuuri’s sleepy hometown. Russia’s probably pretty open about it too, considering what Yuuri knows. And even if it’s not, the media constantly hounds Victor for every piece of information they can get, and—

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” Yuuri says softly, looking down at his feet. “I don’t—you don’t ever have to tell me anything you don’t want to, you know.” It’s not that Victor _isn’t_ obviously holding back on a lot, he keeps putting his foot down on the things they _actually_ need to talk about. But he just… Victor never stops trying to please. He’ll let himself hurt time and time again if he thinks it’ll make Yuuri happy.

He’s the opposite of the grating, abrasive Yuuri who hides away at any given opportunity.

“I don’t mind.” Victor’s voice is soft, but Yuuri’s too afraid to look up and see the expression on his face. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago. When you don’t present as a soulmate with your own parents, well. It isn’t _rare_, but you stand out.”

Yuuri finally looks up to find Victor staring at the uneaten crust of his toast, and—and he’s not smiling.

Yuuri pushes away from the counter, leaning across the island and gripping Victor’s hand in his own. Touch isn’t something he would have ever considered to come to him naturally, to be ableto comfort with, before Vitya. But now— Well, now he’s learning.

And Victor grips his hand tight enough that it might hurt if he were corporeal. His touch is honest, even if his expressions and words aren’t.

He’s still Victor.

He’s still Vitya.

Eventually, though, Victor lets go, and the usual smile spreads across his face. Yuuri’s heart clenches a little at the sight of it, but he can’t say he’s surprised.

Victor gets up, throwing out his crust and placing his plate in the sink. “I’m glad to see that Yura made good on getting you some clothes. I know you can’t feel cold, but… Well, you were a little uncomfortable about it, weren’t you?”

“Ah, yeah. Wait.” Yuuri grabs the hem of his t-shirt. “Yurio did this? His magic can take him all the way to _Japan_?”

Victor snorts, and it’s an ugly, real sound. “No, no, he can’t get that far that fast. He’d have to take breaks to recover from magical burnout, and it would probably take him longer than a plane ride. No, he explained the situation to Yuuko, and asked if you could be dressed for your own modesty.”

Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “He used those words exactly?”

Victor’s lips quirk up. “Maybe not _exactly_. And I…” He takes a moment to stare into the sink. “I want to let you know I passed on an invitation for your family to come, even if they can’t see you. They declined and said they wanted to stay there for if—_when_ you wake up.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s voice comes out nearly as small and pathetic as he feels. “I… thank you. You didn’t have to.”

Victor closes his eyes for just a moment too long to be a blink, and that fake smile is plastered back onto his face again. “It’s certainly the least I can do! Now, are you ready to head to the rink?”

Yuuri’s smart enough to recognize a conversational door being closed in his face when he sees one, and gives a small sigh. “Yeah, so long as you’ve eaten enough.”

“Yes, thank you, Yuuri.” Victor scuttles around for a minute, grabbing his things and guiding Yuuri out the door. “You know, you don’t need to cook for me. I am capable of cooking for myself. I had to learn when it was just me and my mother, and it’s come in handy with having such a strict diet.”

Yuuri glances at Victor quickly before turning away and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then why don’t you? Eat breakfast that is.”

“I _do _eat, it’s just protein bars are easier and—” He cuts himself off at Yuuri’s glare. “I… I used to. I suppose I just haven’t been in the mood for it, lately.”

Yuuri remembers not being in the mood for cooking and eating. After Sochi, and then finals, and Vicchan hanging over him the whole time for _weeks_… no wonder he was in such a horrible place when Victor came around.

But for Victor to be there because… because of _Yuuri_, well, he can’t let that stand.

“Then I’ll cook for you until you’re up for it again.”

“Yuuri, you don’t have to—”

“We already talked about this, and I said I don’t want to be like my mom. I—” Yuuri’s words catch in his throat. “I care. And I want to. Please.”

Victor huffs out a small breath. “But, _Yuuri_, you’re my guest.”

Yuuri laughs, a sharp sound. “I mean, technically. But if I didn’t want to be here, apparently I wouldn’t be—and it’s not like _I_ was a great host in Detroit.”

“You weren’t… bad,” Victor struggles to get out, the lie apparently even hard for him.

“Yeah. Sure. I took you out while you were naked to a Walmart on my first day. And the only time we did anything fun, it was because _you_ made the plans to go to the carnival. Otherwise, it was just games, and errands, and chores, and me sleeping a _lot_.”

“I had fun,” Victor says softly. “I might not have had the tourist experience, but I had fun.”

“You see? That means—wait, what?” Yuuri blinks up at Victor. “That wasn’t… That whole thing played out horrible and awful. You deserved better.”

“It was the best time I’ve had in years,” Victor says the words with such absolute confidence that Yuuri can’t so much as doubt him.

And, well. How would Yuuri even begin to doubt that’s the truth when he’s seen his pristine apartment and the false smiles he wears all the time here?

“I… It was nice, you know.” Victor continues after a moment’s pause. “To take a break from skating and all of that.”

“You… you know you don’t have to keep skating.” Yuuri reaches out to take Victor’s hand—but his fingers just slide right through him.

“But then I would disappoint some of my favorite fans, wouldn’t I, _Yuuri_?” And oh, it’s not fair how he uses Yuuri’s name after a sentence like _that_.

“You wouldn’t let me down,” Yuuri says as firmly as he can manage when he feels like he hasn’t felt like he’s been sure about anything since he woke up in Saint Petersburg

“Ah, but that’s not what you said before!” Victor chirps before he picks up his pace.

“But I— I wasn’t myself then, Vitya. I thought you were fake, I thought that was what _you_ wanted—”

“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.” He gives Yuuri a strained smile before he starts his way up the steps. 

And Yuuri can only trail behind him. 

He has a lot to learn about Vitya, a lifetime of things to catch up on, but he _wants_ to learn and—

Well, he’s earned Vitya’s mistrust, hasn’t he?

He’s really not making any progress at all.

He follows Victor through the facilities and the locker room before they finally go out into the rink.

Yuuri wishes he had Phichit. He’s always been better at people than Yuuri has been. If he knows about what’s happened—and this is Phichit, of _course_ he knows—he has to be worried out of his mind. At least Mari can tell him what’s happened considering how often they text, but… Yuuri wishes he had one of his best friends to help him figure out what’s going on and how to deal with it. Even just someone to let him talk it out to. It’s not like he can just dump this on Yurio, he’s _fifteen_.

He just—

He doesn’t know what to _do_.

“Katsuki, you’re here, aren’t you?”

Yuuri jumps, staring at Yakov a moment and wondering _how_ he figured out where Yuuri was standing and somehow snuck up on him. Then he crouches down and pokes Yakov in the leg. Much to Yuuri’s delight, it makes him jump again.

Yakov gives a grunt, maybe trying to hide his embarrassment. Yuuri can dream. Still, his eyes stay forward, on the rink. “Whatever you’re doing, you’re doing good. Keep at it. If not for me, then for him.” Yakov nods toward Victor. “Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong about you, after all. He looks happier today. Don’t mess it up.”

And then he turns away to bark something harsh and Russian at another skater.

But… but _wait_. Yuuri wants to scream at him and ask him how Victor can _possibly_ look better after a day of Yuuri constantly putting his foot in his mouth. It doesn’t make any _sense_.

If Yuuri could talk to him, he’d ask so many questions, he’d grab Yakov’s shoulders and shake him and find out what he _means_. He’d get everything that’s been weighing on his chest and dump it out instead of hiding it and fearing that he’ll scare away and hurt Victor _again_.

But Yuuri _can’t_ talk to anyone. He can’t let anyone know anything, and he has no way out of this whole situation.

So he does what any reasonable person would do and breathes as calmly as he can while he strides around the rink and collapses right into Makkachin’s side, letting a few tears slip out as he squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I do research and make sure that the onsen in Karatsu has a breakfast menu for this fic? Perhaps. (I wonder why an onsen would serve breakfast, tbh, but maybe the one in Karatsu is actually an inn, unlike what the floor plans of Yu-topia suggest??? I’ve thought way too much about this.)
> 
> Shout-out to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for putting up with my shenannagins (and to you guys, too). We're getting _so close_ to the promised fluff zone, you guys have NO idea
> 
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	24. Twenty-Four

Yuuri can’t seem to call Victor _Vitya_ in his head anymore. He tries to say it out loud when talking to Victor, but in his head it just doesn’t feel right.

It’s not that Victor and Vitya aren’t the same person, even if Yuuri once had that stupid, stupid delusion.

But it’s hard to give this Victor the same name as his childhood friend, the same name as the man who draped himself across Yuuri at every given opportunity, who took Yuuri out to a carnival and threw plastic balls at people. And Yuuri wishes there wasn't a distinction between the two, wishes he didn't know why the difference exists in the first place, but he _does_ know.

He wishes he could just bury his face in Makkachin’s fur again and let his feelings out into the nonexistent warmth of her fur, but she’s busy giving herself a bath right now and not even the lure of a good scratch will distract her.

Honestly, dragons somehow seem to embody all the quirks of both cats _and_ dogs, but in a much larger body.

“Whatcha doing?” Yurio flops down next to him eating… a Jello cup? Well, no they probably don’t have the brand name “Jello” in Russian. They eat plenty of desserts with gelatin in Japan, and they don’t have Jello there—

Yuuri shakes his head. “Just…” He gestures vaguely toward the rink. “You know. Watching.”

“Sounds boring.” Yurio scowls, and Yuuri’s never appreciated such a blunt personality as much as he does now. “You want some? It’s, uh… English…” He squints for a second before perking up. “Sour cherry.” He jabs the cup and spoon in Yuuri’s direction.

Yuuri just barely holds back a smile. “Ah, no. Thank you though. I can’t eat when I’m, you know. Like this.”

Yurio gives him a look from the corner of his eye. “That sucks.”

Yuuri snorts. “Yeah. That’s an understatement.”

Yurio just grunts in response, and their eyes wander back out over the rink.

Honestly, seeing Victor on the ice in person has always been one of the most breathtaking sights of Yuuri’s short, uneventful career. Other than Worlds, Yuuri rarely shared the ice with Victor, his luck either terrible or amazing enough to put off really meeting him until this mess. And not to mention that Worlds is so _huge_ that he had barely so much as run into Victor in the chaos. 

But Yuuri’s seen Victor practice, he’s seen him perform a few of his routines in person. He’s seen those powerful legs and graceful arms at work, the way he inhabits his programs unlike any other skater on the ice.

And now that he knows Victor as Vitya…

He sees how tired Victor is right now. He has none of the energy and grace that Yuuri remembers seeing in Victor’s performances like the Lilac Fairy, the first time that Yuuri saw Victor on the ice. And he wonders how long that he’s missed _this_ in Victor’s skating. When did he get so absorbed in the image of Victor Nikiforov that he stopped noticing the human behind it?

“So, when did he start appearing for you?”

Yuuri blinks at Yurio. “What?”

“Victor.” Yurio shoves his spoon in his mouth, finally looking right at Yuuri.

“Well, the first time I was… really young. I don’t even remember when it started, exactly.” Yuuri could probably ask his mom and she’d remember, but that’s not exactly an option right now. “And the second time it was right after finals. Early spring.”

“Not after Sochi?” Yurio’s eyebrows shoot up.

Yuuri winces. “N-no. Not _right_ after. It was after Japanese Nationals, but before Worlds.”

“Oh.” Yurio squints. “Then what caused it?”

“Uh.” How would _Yuuri_ know?

Except that he’s already discovered how to make this connection come and go. He might not have realized that he knows, but he does.

“You have to… to _want_ the other person to be there, and I think they have to want to be there with you.”

“Really?” Yurio frowns, looking back at the rink. “That’s what Victor’s always wanted, though. He’s always been a moronic romantic, he should’ve showed up the moment he passed out after Sochi.”

Yuuri flinches. He really did _not_ need to remember that their soulmate bond was reignited by Victor snubbing Yuuri, thank you very much. Though now… It really doesn’t matter. It never actually mattered. What matters is where they go from here.

Yuuri shakes off those thoughts, trying to focus on Yurio instead. “I… I don’t know what happened back then. I don’t even know why he’s letting me be here, now.”

Yurio lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh that Yuuri’s ever heard in his life—which is saying something because he knows Victor. “Because he _wants_ you here, you moron.”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess.” Yuuri gives a half-hearted shrug. “But I hurt him, and I haven’t apologized and made things better like I should yet.”

“Then why don’t you just _do it_, instead of sitting here like a sad puppy?”

Yuuri’s lips quirk a little. Oh, for life to be as simple as it is for an angry teenager. “Because he’s not… he’s not listening to me. I’ve tried to, but nothing I’m doing is making anything better. He’s putting on that fake smile and saying everything’s okay when it’s not.”

“Then what are you going to do about it?” Yurio snaps.

“I don’t know yet,” Yuuri answers quietly, bringing his knees up to his chest.

It’s another long moment of silence before Yurio lets out another sigh. “Fine. You’re both idiots. But what are you gonna do if he forgives you?”

_Forgive_. The word rings hollow in Yuuri’s ears, a piece that doesn’t fit the puzzle. It feels too much like an expectation for Yuuri to have of Victor, and an unreasonable one at that. Yuuri’s screwed up enough that he understands if they never reach that tentative intimacy that they had in Detroit, or the casual friendship that they had as kids. And the thought that _he’s_ the one that destroyed that is sharp and twisted and stabs at him in his weakest points and then twists _deeper_.

But just because it hurts doesn’t mean he’s entitled to anything. All he wants is help Victor get to a better place, even if he never wants to see Yuuri again afterward. He wants to hope otherwise, but Victor doesn’t owe that to him.

“I’m not—” Yuuri clears his throat, hoping that it’ll clear the thoughts stuck in there. It doesn’t. “I don’t know if he’ll forgive me. I don’t expect it.”

Yurio snorts. “Then you really don’t know Vitya.”

Yuuri presses his lips together. The problem is that Yuuri does—or rather, he _did_. But he’s been locked out with no key to get back in. Victor might not ever push him away, but that doesn’t mean Yuuri expects what they had to come back.

“Fine. Be that way.” Yurio rolls his eyes at Yuuri’s silence. “What _do_ you expect, then?”

“I...” Yuuri closes his eyes, focusing on the sound of blades scraping against ice, his mind wandering to all of the performances Victor’s given throughout the years, how much they mean to Yuuri. “I want to say that I’m sorry. That’s all I want.”

And that’s the most succinct way he can put it even if there's a lot more to it. It’s the fact that Victor deserves to smile with no reservations. He deserves to be enthusiastic without a care in the world. He deserves to love and laugh and skate however he wants, and not have to hide it away because of selfish people like Yuuri.

He wants Victor to feel loved, and if Yuuri’s experienced in anything, it’s loving Vitya, the face of the man he’s always admired and his childhood friend both.

But that’s a little much to dump on a fifteen-year-old.

What Yuuri wouldn’t give for just one conversation with Phichit…

Yurio considers him for a long moment, the only sounds being Makka grooming herself behind them, the sharp hiss of skates on ice, and the occasional bark of Russian from Yakov.

“I guess that’s fine,” Yurio finally concedes, looking back out to the ice himself.

They lapse back into a silence that’s more comfortable than before, something that settles warm in Yuuri’s gut like not much else can warm him right now.

“Thanks, by the way,” Yuuri eventually blurts out.

“For what?” Yurio eyes him.

“For getting me real clothes, instead of the hospital gown.”

“Oh.” Yurio scowls. “Well I didn’t want to see your ass hanging out and there were a few close calls yesterday, all right?

“Yeah.” Yuuri could point out that Yurio barely saw him without his bottom half covered by the boards, or how Yuuri spent most of his time with Makka, or that the gown had been properly tied so there really wasn’t a risk—but he lets it slide. “Still, thank you.”

“Whatever, loser.” Yurio huffs, then looks back toward the ice pointing at something with his spoon. “What do you think of Mila’s triple axel?”

Yuuri smiles and gives a shrug. “I don’t think I’ve seen it?”

Yurio tsks. “Then watch, stupid.”

And Yuuri’s smile only grows.

They fire back and forth at each other reminiscent of how things were in Hasetsu, easy and thoughtless and kind of fun if Yuuri’s being honest. The Russian skaters at the rink are some of the best in the world, but between Yurio’s harsh criticism and Yuuri’s ability to overthink everything, they have their fun.

Even Victor catches sight of them at one point and smiles, soft and almost thoughtless.

What Yuuri wouldn’t give to make him smile like that all the time.

But eventually Yakov starts screaming for Yurio to get back to his schedule and Yurio snaps back something in Russian—something not too kind if the way Yakov’s face goes red is any indication.

“See you around, Katsudon. Don’t fuck anything up while I’m not here to babysit you.”

Yuuri snorts softly. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” And then Yurio strides off, Yakov already snapping at him again.

Yuuri gives a sigh, only to get interrupted by a trilling hum behind him. He turns, finding Makkachin twitching her tail and looking at him expectantly.

Yuuri grins. At least there’s still a lot of good around him, even with everything else going on.

__________

The rest of the day passes much the same as before, Yuuri lounging on Makkachin, and Makkachin lounging on him—let’s just say it’s a good thing he doesn’t have bones for Makkachin to crush or he’d be in the hospital for more reasons than just a head injury. The scrapping of blades and the periodic shouting and sometimes laughing echoes into the cavern, and it lulls Yuuri into that strange, not-quite asleep state again.

He feels like he should be up, moving around, doing something. But _what_? He doubts Victor could be distracted from his practice, and he’s wasted enough of Yurio’s time. Before he ended up in Russia, rumors—and by rumors, he means Phichit—said that Yurio’s making the move up to Seniors this year, and he’ll need all the practice and discipline he can get. Yuuri made the switch when he was much older and he was still overwhelmed. Yuuri had done so well in Juniors, but when he switched… Well, the competition was very, _very_ different.

Yuuri sighs, snuggling further into Makkachin, almost able to feel the warmth from her fur. For being creatures of ice and cold, they’re so cozy…

“You and Makkachin really get along, don’t you?”

Yuuri lifts his head, squinting at Victor. He can’t be sure at this distance, but he almost seems… sad.

But why? Yuuri and Makkachin get along well together, which means less trouble for Victor, right? Yuuri might not have a bond with her like Vicchan, but she isn’t his soulmate like Vicchan is. Though maybe if Yuuri meets her in person they might develop something. He still has his tattoos like this, but maybe they need actual, physical contact to manifest. Possibly? He might not be soulmates with her at all, he’s just guessing, but—

_Oh_.

If Victor’s only soulmate is Yuuri, then Makkachin isn’t his.

Yuuri had always assumed that they had to be soulmates. There were multiple photoshoots with Makka and Victor throughout the years working the cute animal angle, and they seemed as close and as happy as Yuuri and Vicchan, if not even more. Victor’s smile was never bigger than it was when he’s in a picture with Makkachin—even on his Instagram, outside of staged shoots.

But…

He confirmed that Yuuri is his only soulmate. And Yuuri’s definitely mentioned that Vicchan is his soulmate, one of many.

Yuuri can’t be sure that’s what’s on Victor’s mind, but with how much they’ve been talking about it, he can guess.

It takes quite the effort to escape Makkachin’s massive paws, but Yuuri manages it and walks over to Victor, taking his hand and squeezing it, before someone sees them and it falls through.

Yuuri bites back his grimace. “Let’s head home?”

“I— Yes. Home.” Victor’s eyes seem a little less bright and a little more empty before he turns and begins to walk around the rink, but Yuuri doesn’t comment on it.

There has to be something wrong. No, there _is_ something wrong. Victor is wonderful and amazing and sweet. He still treats Yuuri kindly after everything he’s done wrong. He’s always made time for fans, he’s dedicated, and he’s persistent. Yuuri always assumed that Victor had a ton of soulmates because he was Victor Nikiforov, when the truth is that Victor should have dozens and dozens of soulmates because he’s _Vitya,_ and yet… he doesn’t.

It shouldn’t be possible. Yuuri’s fingers itch for his phone to look up if there are any soulmate disorders or something like that. But, well. His mother and father’s soulmate marks presented so much later than anything he’d ever heard of before, and honestly Phichit seems to have so many soulmates, Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t count them all—and some of those are people Phichit rarely ever talks to. He thought those were the two ends of the soulmate spectrum, but it’s not a clean line, is it?

A soulmate is someone important to you, but the concept of “important” seems to change from person to person.

And Yurio cares enough about Victor to magic himself from Tokyo to Hasetsu to possibly beat someone up. Yakov cares about Victor enough to threaten Yuuri—another competitor who, if he wakes up, could probably file some kind of action against Yakov with the ISU for that. And Makkachin, well. Her love seems just as unconditional as any animal’s, no matter how intelligent dragons can be.

There’s something wrong here. Victor deserves all the love that Yuuri’s accidentally stumbled into throughout his life, but he’s just not getting it.

“Yuuri?” Victor asks, leaning in close as they stand in the locker room

Yuuri doesn’t even remember getting there.

“Are you ready to head back?” Victor frowns at him, a little furrow in his brow.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Yuuri stands up a little straighter, glancing around. It looks like they’re the last ones left. “I got a little wrapped up in my thoughts. Were you talking to me for awhile?”

Victor smiles slightly, in a real sort of way. “Oh, just a few minutes. I was beginning to wonder if you were all right.”

“I’m fine, I—” Yuuri’s fine, but Victor’s _not_ and he wants to see Victor smile more without reservations like that. “I actually… What if we didn’t go back to your apartment?”

Victor’s eyebrows quirk up. “What?”

“What if… What if I take you somewhere, like you took me to the carnival?” Yuuri reaches out and takes Victor’s hand, Victor gripping back instantly as if more out of instinct than anything else.

“Oh.” Victor blinks down at Yuuri. “There’s no need,Yuuri.”

Yuuri flinches a bit. “I know I don’t need to, but what if I _want_ to?”

Victor’s brow raises even further. “Yuuri, I practically had to drag you from your apartment to go out to that carnival.”

“Ah.” Well Victor’s not _wrong_. “I was just, um, going through a lot, then.”

“And you aren’t now?”

Yuuri frowns. Why does he have to make so many good points? “I am. But I— I’m trying to handle it better. And I don’t want to take it out on you, or anyone else.”

Victor clicks his tongue softly, starting to pull his hand away. “Well then, you shouldn’t push yourself for my sake.”

“But that’s not the _point_. I had fun at the carnival with you. I want to have fun with you again, even if I’m not really here. I want—“ Yuuri pauses, taking a shaking breath. “I want to be as good to you as you were to me.”

“Well, you haven’t landed me in the hospital, have you? You didn’t selfishly ignore one of the few requests made to you, hm?” That fake, strained grin spreads across Victor’s face. “I’d say you’re doing far better than I did.”

“But that—both of those things—were my fault.” How can Victor even begin to blame himself when everything so easily traces back to Yuuri? He doesn’t even have to be in an anxiety spiral to twist this into a truth. 

Yuuri fucked up. He knows that he did, and he’s not using it for a self-pity party, he’s trying to make it better. But he can’t make it better if Victor doesn’t even think there’s anything to _make_ better.

“They were not.” Victor frowns. “You told me not to send you anything, and then I did. And with the—whatever that was that happened at the ice rink in Japan, that was all my fault. I showed up drunk, I’m the one who got—” He snaps his mouth shut, cutting himself off. “You own too much, Yuuri.”

“No, I don’t.” Yuuri stands a little straighter. “I’m the one who started blurring the lines in the first place in Detroit. And I don’t know exactly what happened in Hasetsu, but you wouldn’t have gotten to that point without me and my terrible choices.”

Victor raises his free hand to press his fingers to his forehead and closes his eyes—Yuuri had hardly realized they’re still, somehow, holding hands. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and I have to be at the rink again tomorrow morning, so I shouldn’t be going out right now. You’re welcome to explore the town if you like, Yuuri.”

And then he pulls his hand from Yuuri’s and walks away.

Something sharp squeezes in Yuuri’s chest, and it’s hard to breathe even though Yuuri’s not sure that he even needs to breathe.

That just… That’s not the _point_.

He wants to scream and shout and shake some sense into Victor’s head that this isn’t helping _anyone_.

Maybe this is how Victor felt in Detroit.

Yuuri sighs and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. It feels like he went from having no idea what needs to be fixed to having so many things to fix to ever possibly be able to mend them all.

But… he has to.

And getting angry isn’t going to help either of them, even if it’ll make him feel better _now_.

He needs to have a clear head, and he needs to think_._ He has to change this, even if it ends up with Yuuri getting pushed out of Victor’s life—so long as that’s what Victor wants. He’s going to keep talking about it and bringing it up until Victor _has_ to say something. 

He’s got all the time in the world after all, doesn’t he? Nothing’s changed since he woke up, and, well. He doesn’t want to think about what that means. 

So Yuuri takes a moment to have a few deep breaths, and follows after Victor.

He _will_ change this, even if it’s the last thing he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who will win in a battle of stubborn vs. stubborn? I suppose we'll see...
> 
> Also. I think you guys will like the next chapter, I'm just sayin' ;)
> 
> As always, shout-out to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for putting up with this fic in a MUCH less polished form, and thank you guys for trusting me through this journey!!! I swear I'm being honest, you'll like the next chapter~
> 
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	25. Twenty-Five

The next day starts off much the same as the previous day, with Yuuri making breakfast and Victor protesting, and Yuuri can already to feel the start of a daily routine rising up around them.

He doesn’t know if that’s a comfort or a curse.

It’s nice to have some sort of semblance of normalcy when absolutely _nothing_ about his existence is anything close to “normal.” He likes having something that makes him feel like this is okay, like life can go on, but…

If they start to fall into this routine, he knows they’ll settle into a rut. Yuuri’s trying his best not to, but avoidance is one of his specialties and a searingly cold fear grows in his gut that he’ll just let things slide away.

He wants to believe he won’t, that after _all this_ he’s learned his lesson.

But if Katsuki Yuuri is good at anything, it’s worrying.

Victor seems a little more mellow today, not putting on as many fake smiles as usual—but he’s not smiling too much at all. Yuuri’s partially pleased about that, but also a little afraid because he’s not sure if the fake smiles appearing less is a good or a bad sign. His sort-of-fight with Vitya yesterday hangs heavy over him, and, yeah, he wants Victor to stop with the false cheer, but he doesn’t want to make him _miserable_.

Yuuri sighs as he steps into the rink beside a false-happy Victor. He’s been doing that way too much lately, like Yuuri’s some sort of lovesick teenager or something.

He could stop, but who’s going to judge him for it? Victor probably won’t say anything considering how he’s been acting himself, and Yurio’s going to heckle him no matter what because he’s Yurio and that’s how he shows affection. Not to mention— 

“What are you doing here?”

Yuuri almost jumps out of his skin at the venom in the words, Yakov striding towards them in the lobby of the rink—but his eyes aren’t on Yuuri, of course they aren’t.

They’re on Victor.

Naturally, Victor plasters on one of his not-smiles. “Yakov! Good morning to you, too.”

“Answer my question,” Yakov growls, managing to make Yuuri shrink back even though he’s taller than Yakov.

“I’m here to skate!” Victor’s smile wavers slightly. “What else would I be at an ice skating rink for?”

Yakov huffs, his face going pink. “Today is your _rest day,_ Vitya.”

Victor’s eyes flash to Yuuri, before landing back on Yakov. “Surely you can just let me skate around a bit.”

“I told you yesterday you were not even to step foot in this building today.” Yakov crosses his arms. “Now you will take two days.”

“I—what?” Victor’s face falls. “Yakov, I can’t—”

Yakov barks out a laugh. “Clearly you can’t! You can’t follow directions, and I will _not_ have you break yourself because you refuse to have a life outside of skating.”

Victor stiffens, something in his eyes burning. “You are not my father. You can’t force me to do anything outside of this rink.”

Yakov lets out a breath, some of the tension draining from his shoulders as his gaze softens. “I am not. But I am your coach, and I have known you since you were a child. You matter to me. And I’m the only one trying to keep you from ruining your body and your career at this point.”

“That isn’t…” Victor presses his lips together.

“That _is_. I am your coach. You pay me to make sure you are at the top of your sport, and you will not ruin yourself on my watch.”

Victor meets Yakov’s heavy gaze with his own for what feels like minutes, but eventually he relents, looking away from both Yuuri and Yakov.

“Katsuki,” Yakov barks, looking in Yuuri’s general direction—he must’ve caught Victor’s glance earlier. “You make sure that he takes care of himself. Are we understood?”

“Y-yes, coach,” Yuuri splutters out before his brain catches up with him, and he realizes that Yakov can’t hear him.

Yakov _does _look over and see the slight glare that Victor’s sending Yuuri though, and gives a nod in Yuuri’s general direction. “Good. Now get out of here before I have to call security.”

Victor scoffs. “You _wouldn’t_.”

Yakov doesn’t so much as say a word, just raises his eyebrows and keeps his eyes focused on Victor.

There’s another standoff between the two, this time lasting a bit longer than the previous one. Really, no wonder Yakov lost most of his hair between the stubbornness of Victor and the teenage angst of Yurio alone, not to mention the other skaters he trains.

It makes Yuuri wonder how Celestino’s hair stayed intact through his years with him. If he and Victor seem to be equal in anything, it’s in to be their stubborn streaks.

“Fine,” Victor finally snaps, turning and walking away without a glance back.

But Yuuri sees the way that Yakov instantly wilts and reaches up to rub his forehead with his hand, worry and concern etched into the creases of his face.

Yuuri wants to offer some sort of comfort, but he has none to give. He wouldn’t even if he were really there. On top of barely knowing Yakov outside of death threats, he’s just not good at this kind of thing.

Honestly, Victor shouldn’t only have incompetent _Yuuri_ as a soulmate. But that’s something he can’t change. Yuuri wishes there was so much he could change, because Victor… Victor’s still not doing good.

Yuuri has to do something. _Now_.

Before he gets left too far behind, Yuuri turns and jogs after Victor, falling into step beside him. He doesn’t say a word, aware enough to see the tense set to Victor’s shoulders, how his strides are so long that Yuuri can barely keep up even without having to gasp for air.

At least as they get closer to the apartment, the stiffness begins to slip away from him, and Yuuri has a shred of hope—until Victor turns his fake grin toward Yuuri and opens the door to the building.

Victor’s just—he’s _stuck_. He’s not moving, he’s not getting better, and Yuuri can’t fix him, but maybe he can push him in the right direction.

Even if it ends with Yuuri shut out of Victor’s world and just stuck in a coma for who knows how long.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Victor starts as the elevator doors close behind them. “But today doesn’t seem to be a very good day for showing you around Saint Petersburg. It’s very cloudy and cold. But since Yakov won’t let me skate tomorrow, I’ll take you out and about then.”

Yuuri _could_ point out that Victor took Yuuri out in a near-blizzard in Detroit, and back then Yuuri could actually feel the cold. But he knows this is just an excuse. He knows this isn’t the battle he needs to fight. No, _that_ is what’s making his hands shake a little.

But he won’t back down.

So for now, he just nods. “Sure. Tomorrow sounds good.”

Victor flashes him that fake smile, and some of Yuuri’s nerves settle, hardening into an armor.

They leave the elevator in silence, and Yuuri’s not sure if it feels heavy because of what’s going on in his head, or if it’s that way for both of them.

Either way, they walk into the apartment, Victor setting down his bags, and Yuuri wringing his hands as he follows him, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally manages to get words out.

“Victor, can we talk?”

Victor freezes. He’s quiet for a long second before he slowly turns to Yuuri, that smile still on his face. “Of course, Yuuri. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s just—” Yuuri closes his mouth, taking the time to actually _think_ before he speaks. He’s too impulsive, and he needs to slow down. He takes a shaking breath. “No, actually. Everything’s not all right.”

Victor blinks, taking a step toward Yuuri. “Is it— Are you feeling any different? With your real body? Or is it something here, in Saint Petersburg? You don’t have to stay with me all day, you know, you could—”

Yuuri reaches out and takes Victor’s hand, not expecting to cut him off but thankful for the opening. “It’s not about me. Or, well, not really. It’s just…” Yuuri takes another breath, looking up and meeting Victor’s eyes. “Victor, what’s wrong?”

Victor’s smile twists out of shape a little as his brow furrows, looking more like a confused grimace than anything else before he catches himself and fixes it. “Nothing’s wrong, Yuuri. What do you mean?”

And Yuuri’s _sick_ of those smiles. He’s sick of being shut out, and not because Victor doesn’t deserve to do that if he’s truly angry at Yuuri—he can and he should be. But he keeps trying to make Yuuri think it’s okay, that _they’re_ okay, and Yuuri can’t live this lie.

“No, _please_ stop with those _smiles_.” Yuuri grips Victor’s hand a little tighter. “I know I messed up, I know I did. I know I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but—_please_. Talk to me? Even if it’s to tell me to go and never come back. I understand if you don’t want me around after everything. If I… If I hurt you too much to have around, just send me away. I won’t bother you, I promise. Just… Just _tell me_. I just want you to be happy.”

For a long moment, Victor just stares, his face frozen in that smile and it _stings_. It cuts into Yuuri that Victor feels like he has to be happy throughout all of this, that he wants _Yuuri_ to think he’s happy about all of this.

But then… the edges of Victor’s lips begin to quiver, threatening to break and suddenly Yuuri doesn’t want it, not like this. But it’s too late, now. His smile cracks, shattering off of his face as Victor gasps in a breath “Yuuri. _Yuuri_.” 

Victor reaches out and takes Yuuri’s face between his palms,swiping at the skin and—oh. It’s wet there. He’s crying. No, no, Yuuri’s not supposed to be the one comforted by Victor, he’s supposed to be talking to him, to be taking care of Victor and getting him to let go of whatever he’s been trying to hold back from Yuuri—no, from _everyone_.

Victor takes in another shaking breath, and that’s when Yuuri notices that Victor’s eyes are shining with his own tears. “I… I _can’t, _Yuuri. I just… I _can’t_.”

Yuuri stiffens, blinking through his tears. “Please?” He tries not to beg, but he’s not sure if he succeeds. “I just… I can’t keep pretending this is all right, that _you’re_ all right.”

“No, it’s just…” Victor shakes his head. “It’s better like this, Yuuri.”

“_No_, it’s _not_.” Yuuri reaches up, wrapping his fingers loosely around Victor’s wrists, wanting so desperately to hold him there, but too afraid to tighten his grip. “You’re not _you_ anymore. And if you don’t trust me or want me here that’s _fine_, just say it. Say the word and I’ll go.”

Victor’s eyes search Yuuri’s face. “With how often you suggest that, it sounds like you _want _to leave. Do… Do you, Yuuri?”

“Why would I want to leave?” Yuuri huffs out a breath, his brow furrowing. “If I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here, I wouldn’t have even shown up. I-I was stressed and confused and I didn’t feel like I deserved to be around you before, but…” Well, it’s not like any of that’s _changed_, but it’s just that Victor’s more important to him than all that, now. Yuuri’s trying to grasp all the hands that are reaching out to him and appreciating them as much as they appreciate him, and it’s _hard_.

Victor pulls his touch away from Yuuri’s face, eyes wandering to the couch, to the walls, to the ceiling—anywhere but Yuuri. “I know that you’re injured and you’re desperate Yuuri, you don’t have to lie.”

“I’m _not_ lying.” Yuuri wants to reach out and take Victor’s hands—but would that be too much. “I-I know I’ve hurt you, but I mean it. I want to be here.”

“Sure, if that’s what you say.” Victor gives a rueful smile—but at least it’s not fake.

“That’s what I _mean_.” Yuuri clenches his hands into fists, trying to keep his breathing even. It’s like talking to a brick wall.

Victor gives a slight shrug. “I’m sure you mean that _now_, everyone always does.”

Yuuri blinks. “Everyone?”

“Yes.” The word comes out of Victor’s mouth short, clipped. “Everyone leaves, in the end. It’s inevitable. I’ve told you, haven’t I? I don’t have any soulmates besides you. I thought it would all be okay if I could have _one_ soulmate that— that lo—” Victor’s mouth snaps shut, and his icy eyes finally land on Yuuri. “Everyone leaves. _Everyone_. You can say all of this now, but you won’t be any different. I’ve already accepted it after everything. You don’t need to pretend.”

Anger flares burning and red in Yuuri, sparking in his chest and dripping into his legs and arms. Yuuri’s fought _so hard _to get this far, to try and be the best he can so that Victor won’t doubt him—

But he has every reason to doubt Yuuri.

He’s tried time and time again to reach a tentative hand out to Yuuri, and Yuuri’s either ignored it or pulled away. There are many people who have done wrong by Victor, apparently, and now Yuuri’s one of them

Slowly, cautious enough that Victor could step away and pull back, Yuuri moves his grip up to take hold of his hands, any remaining heat in him cooling at the contact. “I _refuse_ to leave you. Sometimes… Sometimes I’m scared of things and I’ll pull away. But I won’t do that to you again. And I will _never_ leave.”

“No.” Victor shakes his head, though he doesn’t pull away, his shoulders slumped. “Thank you, Yuuri. I appreciate you trying and caring, but… I may be stubborn, but I know when to give up.”

Yuuri…. He doesn’t know what to do. They’re going in circles like this. He almost thought he was getting through, and at least those fake smiles are gone, but… Maybe he just needs to push a little harder. Yuuri takes a deep breath. “This is how _Victor Nikiforov_ thinks?”

“Yes.” Victor’s eyes are sharp as they meet his. “Yes, it is. You see, the quad flip never told me to go away for trying too much. My routines never walked away from me because I was too noisy and took up too much space. Yakov—Yakov’s _paid_ to put up with me. I can’t hurt the ice and chase it away. But that’s what I’ve done to you.”

Yuuri blinks. “But… No. You haven’t done that Victor. I’m right here. I’m _right here_.” Yuuri grips Victor’s hands a little tighter.

Victor shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I tried. I tried to be good, and to let you in and… First I chased you away, I did what you specifically asked me not to do, and I built that wall between us. And then when you reached out, tried to trust me and let me in, I hurt you _again_. You keep talking like you’re trying to apologize, like you’ve done something wrong, but it’s nothing that you’ve done. You’ve done _nothing_ wrong.”

Yuuri barely holds back an incredulous snort. “That’s a lie. Before you ever did anything wrong, I hurt you. And I kept hurting you, more than I even knew about at the time, until I took what we had, and I just… I couldn’t handle it, and I broke it.” Yuuri takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself, and I hurt you. But I want to do better.”

Victor lets out a long breath, eyes shining. “Yuuri, you’ve already apologized for that. You repaired what you broke, and you let me back in to try and build it back to where we were. We were— We were moving on. And then I…” Victor swallows, closing his eyes.

Yeah, whatever Victor did at the rink wasn’t great, but it was Yuuri that started all of this. He hasn’t forgotten Yurio storming over and asking what he’d done to drive Victor to that point—he still doesn’t know what he did to drive Victor to that point, but he knows he did _something_. “Victor, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Victor laughs, but without an ounce of humor. “Nothing? I couldn’t handle something simple and then proceeded to lose control of myself and nearly destroyed your rink.”

Yuuri frowns. “But— You didn’t harm the Ice Castle at all?” Yuuri doesn’t remember much, but he knows that Victor didn’t attack anyone. “You stopped when I asked you to, Victor. Nothing was damaged.”

“Yes, it was.” Victor’s pulls his hands from Yuuri’s, and for a moment his heart sinks—until Victor’s fingers move upward, instead carding through Yuuri’s hair, exactly where he knows Victor had touched and come away with red-stained fingers at the rink. “I damaged _you_.”

“But I…” Yes, Victor hurt him, physically. And he definitely had a big hand in putting Yuuri in a coma, but Yuuri’s the one who broke everything in the first place.

“No, Yuuri, _please_.” Victor’s hands move down to Yuuri’s face, settling where they were when they had started this conversation. “I know… I know what you’re trying to say, I really understand. But it’s not all your fault, it _isn’t_. I need to apologize. I c-can’t keep holding it in.”

It strikes Yuuri in a distant sort of way that Yuuri’s never heard Victor stumble over his words except when he was crying. He really doesn’t understand how Victor could possibly blame himself for this. He’d assumed that Victor handled the rest of his life how he seemed to handle skating—at face value, and for what it is. He didn’t think that he would fall into these same mental traps and mind games that Yuuri does.

But, well, who doesn’t fall prey to their own minds, sometimes?

Cheerful, bright Phichit has days where his light dims, where he’s not as up to being around people as he normally is. Calm, collected Mari will curse like a sailor and bursts into tears almost as easily as Yuuri when she’s frustrated. Yuuri’s seen his mother’s smile strained to the point where she snaps at almost everything, he’s seen his father pull away from the cheerful hustle and bustle of the onsen when it gets to be too much.

Yuuri thought he’d been better about making sure _his_ Victor wasn’t his idea of the untouchable Victor Nikiforov, but it looks like he has a long way to go.

Yuuri reaches up and covers Victor’s hands with his own, but this time he slides his finger’s between Victor’s, lacing them as best he can. “Okay. I’ll listen, Vitya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S TIME! BRACE YOURSELVES!!! COMMUNICATION INCOMING!!!!
> 
> As always, [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) are saints for putting up with the rough draft of this. And thank you guys for trusting (sort of) me that we're coming up on fluff! Communication is the first step to getting there!!!
> 
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	26. Twenty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Possible TW: **   
_Some talk of past bad parenting ahoy_

Victor insists on moving over to the couch, and then getting them tea—even though Yuuri can’t really taste it if he tries. He doesn’t remember exactly what happens when he tries to eat and drink, but he doesn’t want to worry about that now. Yuuri knows Victor’s putting the conversation off, maybe putting his thoughts together, so Yuuri gives him time. Yuuri needs to do things like this impulsively, without thinking too much, or he’ll back down and run away, or fall into a panic attack. But Victor’s not like him, if he needs time, that’s fine.

But he hopes that at this point Vitya knows that Yuuri isn’t going to give up until they talk this out.

Eventually, Victor wanders back over to the couch and perches delicately on the opposite end that Yuuri’s curled up on. Yuuri instinctively wants to close the distance, his mind and his body so used to Victor draping over him constantly, but Victor set this boundary and Yuuri will respect it.

Yuuri brings the mug of tea up to his nose, wishing he could feel the heat of the cup and the steam against his skin.

Another moment of quiet passes, Victor sitting stiff and unmoving. He looks… he looks a lot like he does before a competition, except his eyes are a little wider, his lips pressed into a thinner line. Like he’s more nervous about this than a competition.

Yuuri worries about _everything_, but how much he worries while competing probably tops his list. In competition, everything’s on Yuuri, the only one at fault and the only one who could have done better. People make him nervous, too, of course. Talks like these are hard, _so_ hard, but they aren’t as crippling.

It’s almost ironic that it seems to be the opposite for Victor.

Just as Yuuri gets used to the quiet, Victor clears his throat. “I… I should probably start at the beginning.” His eyes flick over to Yuuri, almost like he’s awaiting his approval.

“Whatever’s easiest for you.” Yuuri tries to give a comforting smile, but he doesn’t know how it comes across when his non-existent stomach is churning and he’s barely able to grip his cup hard enough tp keep his hands from visibly shaking.

“Thank you, Yuuri.” Victor tries to give his own smile back before giving up on the attempt and looking into his tea. “Well… when we were children.”

Yuuri blinks. By “beginning” he assumed the start of the ice rink incident, maybe back to Detroit. He didn’t expect the _actual_ beginning.

“I know you don’t remember any of this, just like I can’t remember when I visited your onsen. We can remember now, but back then… At first it was fine, and Yakov allowed me to talk about and enjoy my little imaginary friend so long as I didn’t mention it to the press. It was wonderful having you around, Yuuri.”

“I liked having you around, too.” Yuuri smiles softly, and this time it’s not strained at all. “You helped me with my chores. Even if you were terrible at them.”

Victor’s answering smile is just as timid, but just as real. “You cheered me on unlike anyone else did. While Yakov was yelling, and my mother… Well, you meant a lot to me. You meant the world.”

Victor closes his eyes. “But you know how unusual our presentation was. We tried to create evidence to show Yakov that you were real, but he thought maybe I’d been asking Georgi for magical help. He… he assumed I was making things up because I was lonely, and I believed him. He said that I had to move on if I didn’t want to be like my mother, and so… I did.”

“But I started ignoring you, too.” Yuuri knows Victor needs to apologize, but he _can’t_ own everything.

Though… Maybe Yuuri should stop trying to own everything, too.

“You started after I did. After I… I told you that it was over and I had to be an adult, and I just…” Victor swallows. “My mother wasn’t… She was not a stable woman. She never hurt me, but I never knew what kind of mood she would be in, I never knew when she would upturn our lives and move to the next place. The only stability I had in my life was the hard, solid ice beneath my skates. When Yakov took notice of me, it was so nice to feel like I had something to reach for besides just worrying about what the next day brought. Until one day my mother said that I had to choose between the ice and her.”

Victor lets out a huff of a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I thought she was just being dramatic again. That it would end in a fight and that she would storm off and eventually come back crying and asking for forgiveness. Because the ice was the one thing I had that I wanted to hold onto, it was the first time in my life that I _wanted_ something, and…” Victor’s gaze wanders over to the window.

“She never came back.”

Yuuri sets down his cup, wanting _desperately_ to crawl across the couch and wrap Victor in his arms—but he’s not sure if Victor’s ready for that yet. Instead, he moves a little closer, holding out his hand.

Victor reaches back instantly and then jars a little at the contact, like taking Yuuri’s hand was reactionary and not something he thought about and surprised himself. His fingers squeeze Yuuri’s, and he gives another empty laugh. “I didn’t mean to dump all of that onto you, Yuuri, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make excuses.”

Yuuri squeezes Victor’s hand back. “I-I’m happy you trust me with this, Vitya. I want to listen if you want to tell me. And it’s not an excuse, you know. It’s what happened to you, that’s all.” Yuuri winces. He says “that’s all,” like it’s something small, like it’s not important to Vitya or him when it’s _both_.

“Oh,” Victor breathes, looking at Yuuri, and then looking away. “I just… It’s not your burden.”

“It’s not. But it’s a part of you.” And Yuuri loves every part of Victor that he’s been shown so far, and he’s _greedy_. He wants more. He wants to take the dusty, abandoned parts of Victor and gently clean off the dust, value them and repair them into something that no longer hurts Vitya to look at. “I care about you, and I… I want to know, if you want to tell me.”

Victor nods slowly, still not looking back to Yuuri. “Well, that’s why I just… When Yakov said I should move on so I wouldn’t end up like my mother, it terrified me. I-I had to, and it was the wrong choice, and I’m sorry. Yakov’s just done so much for me, and I wanted to do right by him…”

Yuuri rubs his thumb along Victor’s knuckles. “I don’t blame you. I decided to do the same thing on my end without even knowing all of that, I don’t blame you.”

“But I’m probably the reason that we haven’t seen each other in our dreams for so long.” Victor’s hand grabs even tighter. “Because it took me _months_ after Sochi to change my mind and finally show myself to you. It was me that was the one who broke us enough that we needed repairing. I let us get to the point where you didn’t even believe in me.”

Yuuri winces at the mention of Sochi, sucking in a sharp breath and turning away himself. “I… I was a mess after Sochi myself, I don’t think I would have let you in before everything was more… settled.”

Victor snorts softly. “I imagine just recovering from your hangover took a while—oh, sorry. I know you don’t… you don’t like talking about Sochi.”

Yuuri closes his eyes for a moment. Of _course_ Victor managed to see him blackout drunk, as if he needed another reason to hate Sochi. “Of course I don’t _like_ talking about it. I came in dead last, my dragon was horribly sick, and then you asked me for a _commemorative photo_—” Yuuri snaps his mouth shut. Shit, now is _not_ the time for this, Yuuri needs to stop, and to _think_.

“You… oh.” Yuuri can see Victor turning toward him, but he’s afraid to look over. “Oh that… that wasn’t the best way to do that, was it?”

“I… I thought you didn’t recognize me. Or you were making fun of me.” Yuuri sucks in a breath. “But this isn’t about that—“

“_Yes_, it is.” Victor tugs at Yuuri’s hand, inching him a bit closer and making him meet Victor’s burning eyes. “You… you seemed so familiar, and I didn’t dare to hope. Being out of your costume and with your hair down you looked so much like the Yuuri I remembered, and I knew I had to talk to you and then the words were out of my mouth. Only afterward, I realized you were my competitor… you look very different with your glasses on and your hair down. I think that’s why I never put it together before then. And I’ve been… I’ve been very bad about paying attention to any skaters besides myself, lately. I’m sorry.”

“I…” Yuuri lets out a shaky breath. “I just _hate_ that our bond came back from my failing and then you not recognizing me, but I-I’m happy it happened at all.”

And he _means_ it. Sochi still stings, it still eats away at him if he lets it, but Victor matters more than that one loss. He’s grateful that it brought Victor into his life, even if it also hurt him deep enough that he’s still recovering from it.

“But… what about the banquet?” Victor whispers, eyes searching Yuuri’s.

“I… I arrived, and I got drunk and either Celestino took me back to my room or I passed out somewhere. Nothing happened.” Except— Except that Victor’s not as malicious or thoughtless as Yuuri thought he was when he was sure Victor was a figment of his imagination. Victor wouldn’t keep bringing up Sochi for no reason. Every time that Victor mentions Sochi, it’s with an excited gleam to his eye. And it makes no sense for a bond like theirs to heal after something that was so awful for Yuuri, no matter how much he feels like he deserves it. “_Did_ something happen?”

Victor stares at Yuuri for a long moment, just looking at him. “My god. You don’t remember, do you?”

“I d-don’t remember what?” Oh no, what did he _do_?

“I… I have pictures on my phone.” Victor glances around, but he can’t find the device and his eyes won’t stay off Yuuri for long. “_Yuuri_. Do you remember anything?”

On top of having a father that has a habit of getting absolutely trashed and doing embarrassing things he doesn’t remember in the morning, giving Yuuri a genetic predisposition for that sort of behavior, Yuuri has a habit of just… completely forgetting stressful events after worrying about them for too long, sometimes.

Everything about Sochi at one point had become a giant blur of anxiety and despair, which was then consumed by the disaster that was Nationals. He vaguely remembers flashes of golden light, of moving and twirling, of smiling and laughing—but he assumed that was a dream.

Celestino had said Yuuri didn’t get into too much trouble, but he knows that Celestino is both a lightweight and someone who never refuses a challenge. Like getting drunk under the table by the other coaches, especially the Russian team—

Oh _shit_, no wonder Yakov hates him so much.

“I don’t remember anything,” Yuuri finally gets out, looking down. “I-I tried _not_ to remember.”

“_Yuuri_.” Victor’s other hand comes over to clasp at Yuuri’s arm, looking for more contact. Yuuri keeps his eyes on where Victor’s fingers wrap around him, wishing he could feel their warmth. “You… you were… more than I can say. You were _exceptionally_ drunk, and you kept challenging everyone to dance battles. You beat Yurio, and then there was Chris and his pole—”

“_What_?” Yuuri looks up, prepared to pull away and go hide in a hole—

But Victor’s smiling. He’s _smiling_. “It was… Heaven help me, Yuuri, those dragon tattoos on your chest when you were with Chris? They looked like they were moving. I would suggest making a costume to show them off, but maybe that’s a _little_ too much skin—anyway, then you wanted to dance with _me_. And you… you made me feel like I could be loved again. You held me so tenderly, and you looked at me so beautifully, and I…” He clears his throat, though his smile doesn’t fade. “I knew you, I knew that I’d made a mistake when we were children. And it took a while to come to terms with it, but I couldn’t let you go. Not again.”

“But I’m…” Yuuri’s voice breaks, and he takes a second to breathe. “I’m not that. I’m not fun, I’m not caring. This is— The banquet— The competition… This is _worse_.”

“Making me fall in love with you is even worse than asking for a commemorative photo? Than coming last at the Grand Prix Final?” Victor raises an eyebrow, and even as the words slice through Yuuri, there’s also _relief_. This bluntness—_this_ is Vitya. “Which wasn’t and still isn’t a failure, by the way.”

“You didn’t _fall in love_ with me.” The words pour out of Yuuri as they eat away at his mind “Or if you did, it was the drunk, fun-loving version of me. Not the anxious mess, regular, run of the mill version of me.”

“You know, you’re right.” Victor smiles gently, moving a little closer to Yuuri so he can move his hand up Yuuri’s arm, settling on his shoulder. “The you that I met at the banquet opened my eyes to the fact that I didn’t have to be alone and miserable, but the sober side of you is the only one that’s actually ever done anything about it.”

Yuuri shakes his head violently. That is _not_ right. “Vitya, I _hurt_ you. Again and again and _again_.”

“And I hurt you.” Victor’s smile fades a bit, his eyes settling somewhere just over Yuuri’s shoulder. “But you… I know I’m not the version of Victor that you wanted. And I’m working on that, I swear I am.”

Yuuri can only blink for a moment. What? _What_? Yuuri _loves_ Vitya exactly as he is—

Yuuri goes very still, his thoughts grinding to a halt.

Yuuri loves Vitya.

It’s the most terrifying but amazing thought that Yuuri’s had. It isn’t that he didn’t know that he valued Victor, just like he does his other soulmates. And he loves each and every one of them differently from the rest—and Vitya’s no exception. He said that he would love Vitya before, and he meant it.

He just didn’t expect to be _in_ love with Vitya.

“Victor, I don’t want you to be anyone else.” Yuuri finally manages, his voice slightly hoarse.

“No, you said…” Victor smiles a little, even as his lips tremble. “You said in Hasetsu that you wanted the suave me. The one the media sees. And I… I hate flirting with strangers. I hate having to flaunt myself. I hate how people expect sexiness and—and _sex, _and I give it to them. I don’t think I’ve ever even _liked_ it, even if I didn’t hate it. It was who they told me I was, and I believed it—until I didn’t. And I never thought that _you_…” He takes a shaking breath. “But that’s okay, I’ll do my best to become what you want and need.”

“No, Vitya.” Yuuri pulls out of Victor’s grip to reach up and take Victor’s face in his hands, brushing away his fringe. “You… you thought— _What_?”

“It doesn’t matter, Yuuri!” Victor puts on his fake smile, but Yuuri doesn’t have the heart to call him out on it this time. “I’ve been working on it, and I swear I’ll do better.”

“No, Victor—_Vitya_, please. Don’t.” Yuuri wishes he could just let Victor _see_. “What do you mean? What made you think that I don’t want _you_?”

“I don’t _think_ that, I _know_ it, Yuuri.” Victor looks away. “And you don’t have to hide it.”

“_No_. That is _not_ what I want.” Yuuri wants to somehow force sense into Victor’s mind, just make him _understand_. “What made you believe that?”

“I thought…” Victor takes a breath. “Well, I _thought_ that this was a person who loved me before I was figure skating’s playboy. This was a person I once loved wholeheartedly, and I could see myself loving again. I thought, this was a person that _could_ love me, my first and only soulmate, but—” Victor’s voice cracks and he shuts his eyes. “I saw how many posters you had of me in your room. I heard how you talked about me, what you expected of me. I… I know what you want.”

_“No_, you _don’t_.” Yuuri just— he can’t believe this. And yet he can. Because he knows these sort of doubts _intimately_, and he never wants Victor to have to believe them. “I didn’t _want_ that. I just… I thought that was a part of you.”

Victor’s smile goes more strained than Yuuri’s ever seen it before. “The media never paints anything like it is. They paint _you_ as standoffish and suave, but you aren’t those things.”

Yuuri winces. He knows he’s not suave, he’s had a few failed attempts. But… “Well, I can be standoffish.”

“But not because you’re _rude_, it’s because you’re _anxious_.” Victor finally meets his eyes again. “But they don’t know that.”

“But _you_ do.” Yuuri whispers, a cold horror curling in his gut. “And I…” Yuuri thinks about the freckles that photoshoots airbrush away, how much dorkier Victor is in person, how clingy he is. How much more beautiful he is as a living, breathing person than any tabloid painted him as. “I’m sorry, Victor. I just… you’ve always seemed like so much _more_ than anyone like me could have. But I don’t want anything you don’t want. I don’t expect you to be suave and sexy—if you never want to have sex with me, that would be fine. I want _you_. I just… I know now I’m your only soulmate, but I don’t think… I’m not _enough_. Not for you. You deserve the world, and I can’t give that to you.”

“Yuuri,” Victor breathes, leaning into Yuuri’s touch. “I don’t care about the world. You’re _everything_.”

“But—What do I even _do_ for you? Besides make you miserable?” Yuuri can feel the panic tightening in his gut, but he can’t fight it. “Why do you even want to be around me? All I’ve done is hurt you, all I _keep_ doing is hurting you, even when I don’t mean to—”

“Yuuri. Listen to me.” Victor reaches out, grasping Yuuri’s face in return and forcing them to meet each other’s eyes. “You laugh at my awful jokes. You go along with my silly plans, no matter how ridiculous they are. You let me hold you without expecting anything from me in return. You have the most beautiful smile, and you care _so much_ about everything. It made _me_ feel like I could care about someone else for the first time in I don’t even know how long. You’re _Yuuri_ and I…”

Yuuri sucks in a breath, fighting back the sting of tears but knowing that it’s a lost battle as wetness begin to trail down his cheeks. Vitya means _so much _to him, and for him to mean a lot to Vitya, it’s… It almost feels wrong. But he’s learned that those thoughts aren’t the kind he should be listening to despite how right they feel. Those sort of thoughts have never been right with Vitya.

“And you’re a cute dork. You’re clingy to the point that I don’t know how to make it through the day without getting a hug from you anymore. Your kindness sometimes has a bite, but that lets me know that it’s _real_, and that you mean it. It’s become impossible to doubt you anymore. When you’re yourself, you’re so kind, and beautiful, and… You’re Vitya. And I just want you to keep being you. Please. That’s all I ask.”

Victor laughs, tears of his own spilling down his face—and it’s not _fair_ that someone can cry so prettily. “Yes. I can do that for you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri beams at him, even as his tears keep falling. “Then that’s all I ever want from you.”

And Victor’s smile is so bright that Yuuri feels like he could burst with the warmth and the love filling him.

Yuuri knows that there’s still a long way to go, and a lot of things they need to talk about and straighten out still.

But they’ll get there.

Yuuri has no doubt about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house we LOVE and RESPECT aspec Vitya and that is the end of that. And look! PROGRESS!!! TALKING!!!!!! COMMUNICATION!!!!!!!! And you all doubted me, smh (Jk, jk, but we're moving on and moving forward!)
> 
> Things have gotten pretty scary across the globe, but I hope that you're all doing well and taking care of yourselves as best you can. <3 As always, I'll do my very best to keep my update schedule, but if anything changes I'll update my end notes and/or probably post over on Twitter!
> 
> As always, bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being amazing! And thank you guys for trusting that we'd get here. :D
> 
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	27. Twenty-Seven

Victor gives a broken sort of laugh, still not meeting Yuuri’s eyes. “This was supposed to be an apology, and I haven’t even gotten to half of it.”

Yuuri carefully pulls him closer, then even more tentatively presses his lips to Victor’s forehead. “I’ll still listen Vitya. I— I really don’t think you’re at fault for everything, but I’ll listen.”

Victor’s arms instantly wrap around Yuuri, so solid and sure and tight, like Victor’s been waiting to do this the whole time. It makes something in Yuuri tremble, threaten to break, but he just draws in a deep breath and holds Victor tighter, letting them touch and be touched.

It takes a moment, but eventually Victor rests his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and takes a breath. “I… I know I overstepped my boundaries when I sent you the medicine. I wanted to take care of you and your dragon.” Victor pauses a moment, as if unsure how to continue.

Yuuri frowns. “I _did_ need to take care of my dragon. And I wouldn’t have been able to without you, I—” Yuuri breathes in, long and slow. “I never said it, but thank you for that, Vitya.I-I get so stuck in my head sometimes, but I’m trying to change. I needed that, and Vicchan needed it, so thank you.”

Victor’s arms tighten around Yuuri. “But it _hurt you_. I saw how it hurt you.”

“It… It did.” Yuuri nuzzles into Victor’s hair—and this can’t be comfortable with the way that Victor’s turned and twisted, but he knows better than to interrupt this right now. “But I think… I really needed it. I might have gotten there eventually on my own, but it… it forced me to see how horribly I was treating you. I hurt you, too.” Yuuri hurt Victor _more_, if he wants the brutal truth. But he knows it won’t help Victor if Yuuri says that out loud right now, so he bites his tongue, and silently promises to make it up to Victor however he can. He regrets that he wasn’t the one to get Vicchan his medicine—but he _doesn’t_ regret using it. He doesn’t blame Victor for his own faults.

“I… suppose.” Victor finally admits, and the tension in Yuuri’s shoulders snaps, washing away in a wave of relief. Victor really doesn’t deserve to be so _hard_ on himself. “You still explicitly told me not to, though. And I did it anyway.”

“I did,” Yuuri agrees. “But I had broken a bunch of my own rules, and so of course you pushed them. That whole thing was… it hurts, and I’m not saying we shouldn’t talk about it, but you _also_ can’t blame yourself for all of it. I-I still don’t understand why you wanted to stay with me through all of that time in Detroit. I don’t understand how you really _smiled_.”

“Because that was the happiest I’ve been in _years_.” Victor’s voice is the firmest it’s been since they started the conversation, jarring Yuuri. “Even when it was just laying with you on your couch. You never expected anything of me. You listened to me, even when my outbursts and teasing made you die in your video games. You let me help you pack, even though I know it grated on your nerves, but you also—_you_ smiled, too.” His voice breaks a little on the last word.

Yuuri… He _did_ smile, didn’t he? More than he had in months. It hadn’t been years for Yuuri, not with his family and Phichit—and even Celestino. But Victor dragged him out of the depths of his own mind before he had the chance to do it himself. And he would have, eventually. But then he wouldn’t have his Vitya, and he wouldn’t have learned so much along the way. Maybe that’s an optimistic way of looking at things, but Yuuri’s tired of looking for disaster and failure constantly. It’s _exhausting_.

“I did smile.” Yuuri can’t help but grin at the statement, nuzzling a little into Victor’s hair. “I smiled a lot because you were there, even as you were picking through my things and making fun of me.”

Yuuri can feel Victor smiling as he says, “Well _you’re_ the one who decided to keep your neighbor’s sex toys.”

Yuuri groans into the top of Victor’s head as Victor’s arms tremble and small huffs of laughter escape him. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“If anything, I suggest you live it _up_. Embrace it, _Yuuri_.”

Yuuri never thought that he would miss Victor’s relentless teasing, but Vitya’s needling means that he’s letting himself be _Vitya_. It’s such a relief, Yuuri could kiss him. He won’t, of course, they’re not done talking and he doesn’t know if that’s really what Victor wants or is ready for. He said that he was used to living up to what other people wanted, and Yuuri doesn’t want to make him feel like he has to give Yuuri anything he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want Victor to feel cornered. Instead, he presses another kiss to his head, this time on his crown. “You’re ridiculous. And I love it. We can talk about… well, all of _that_ another time.”

Victor pulls away a little, enough to meet Yuuri’s eyes with his own, wide, blue ones. “_Really_?”

“Maybe.” Now it’s _really_ hard not to kiss him. Victor’s lips are _right there_ and they look so _kissable_. Instead, Yuuri shifts and it moves Vitya so he’s more leaning more comfortably against Yuuri instead of all twisted up. “But we can talk about _that_ after with finish talking about _this_.”

And Vitya pouts, making Yuuri bite back an even bigger grin. Vitya huffs, even as his eyes look away, more somber than the rest of his expression.“I… All right.”

They’ve covered almost everything that Yuuri can think of, except Worlds and Hasetsu.

“I’m sorry I never saw your short program,” Yuuri murmurs, almost ashamed to say it. “I meant to afterward, but then…”

Well, he’s been kinda busy.

“No, I’m happy you didn’t.” The mirth leaves Vitya’s face, and he doesn’t meet Yuuri’s eyes. “That skate was supposed to be light and cheerful and about falling in love and…” He gives a humorless snort. “Well, it ended up being about falling, but not how I wanted it to be.”

Yuuri winces. No wonder Phichit told him not to watch it, he… he doesn’t know what that would have done to him. Stammi Vicino was hard enough, but at least Yuuri hadn’t ruined that skate, not really. And then watching Stammi Vicino is what lead Yuuri to calling Victor back to him and…

“I never meant to imply I wanted anything from you, you know.” Yuuri swallows, mouth dry despite the fact he doesn’t even know if that should be possible. “Even—even now, joking about all of that with, um. The package you found. I only want whatever you want, too. In every way.”

“I think… I think I might want that. With you.” Vitya glances back at Yuuri. “But I’m not…” He swallows, his next words a whisper. “I’m not sure yet.”

“That’s okay.” Yuuri brushes the fringe away from Vitya’s face, even knowing that it’ll fall right back into place. “I’ve never… um, I’ve never really felt like I wanted to be anything other than friends with anyone before you, so—so if we get to that bridge, we’ll talk about it?”

Victor breathes out a shaky sigh. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Yuuri spends another moment just _looking_ at Vitya, at how close he’s been this whole time in Russia, yet so far away. “Well, um. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it wasn’t about what I wanted from you. I only ever wanted you to be _you_. I was just… I never felt like _enough_. That’s what I was trying to say.”

“_Yuuri_.” Victor frowns at him. “You’re more than enough. You’re more than I ever wanted. I didn’t really watch the other competitors much, but I remember seeing your routines. I remember loving your musicality. You’ve always been so beautiful that you drew my eyes to you again and again and again, until you took me in your arms and made sure that I would never look away.”

“I…” Yuuri can feel the vague tickling sensation of his cheeks turning red, even without the heat. “I-I don’t know about all that. I just want to be everything you deserve, Vitya.”

“You _are_.” Vitya lifts himself up so that they’re on eye level with each other. “You’re everything that I ever wanted, and _more _than that.”

Yuuri gives a grim smile. “Even when I’m shattering your heart?”

“Do you…” Victor closes his eyes for a second before continuing. “How do you still care about me after I knocked you unconscious and you _still_ haven’t woken up? You might… you might _never_…”

“I do, of course I care about you.” Yuuri doesn’t even need to think about it. He’s already explained dozens of times that he knows it was his own choices that lead them to that point, and he can’t blame Vitya for what happened. He doesn’t know what _he_ would be like in Vitya’s position, if he could have ever been as confident or as brave as Vitya… “Is that why you, um. Lost control? Or whatever happened? Because of what I said in Hasetsu? I’m so, _so_ sorry, Vitya.”

“It… Wasn’t really that. Though that’s what started it…” Vitya shakes his head slightly, his eyes wandering as if trying to remember. “I was… I was upset about that. That’s why…”

“You were drunk.” Yuuri winces as he remembers the panic and the worry that was written all over Yurio’s face. “Very drunk.”

“Yes.” Victor lets out a breath. “I couldn’t—I didn’t know how to deal with that. With everything. So, I didn’t.”

Yuuri makes a small noise, not entirely meaning to. “You can talk to me next time. Please talk to me.”

“Only if _you_ talk to _me_.” Vitya raises an eyebrow at him.

“I will. I don’t think I’ll be perfect about it, sometimes I don’t even know what’s wrong or what to say. But I’ll try.” As long as Yuuri has some kind of consciousness, he’ll keep trying to make sure that he’s doing the best he can. Which means, as Phichit likes to put it, facing the mortifying ordeal of being known. Yuuri smiles a little, even as his chest aches at the thought of Phichit. “Then… what was it?”

“I think, in part, being drunk didn’t help. But I just… I remember you wouldn’t look at me, and you wouldn’t talk to me, and now that I’m sober I know that it was because you had your friend and her children right there and they didn’t know, but…”

But Yuuri had ignored Victor after rejecting him again and again. After his mother left him and he… it’s almost as if Victor’s _refused_ to let anyone be his soulmate since. Maybe it’s possible. Yuuri will have to ask Minako about it—

If he even wakes up.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri murmurs. “I didn’t know if you wanted them to know you were there, or…”

“Oh.” Vitya blinks at Yuuri. “I didn’t even think. If you didn’t want to be known of at my rink I—”

“Vitya, no.” Yuuri presses a gentle finger to Vitya’s lips. “First, I want to know the people around you. Though, you know, actually being here would make it easier. Secondly, do you really think I would’ve been able to go by unnoticed with both Yurio _and_ Makkachin around?”

A grin cracks across Vitya’s face, a little broken. “They love you.”

“And they love _you_.” Yuuri knows that they do, he would bet his life on it. “Soulmate marks don’t _define_ your relationships, they’re just a marker of them. They’re like… engagement rings. Even if you don’t have them, it doesn’t mean you don’t love the person you’re with.”

Victor opens his mouth, shuts it, and then turns away, his smile gone.

“Anyway,” Yuuri starts before Vitya can fall too deep into whatever thoughts are wrinkling his brow. “What happened? I remember the triplets, and you tugging me, but then…”

“Then you fell,” Vitya says, not looking back toward Yuuri. “You fell, and you hit your head, and you wouldn’t say anything no matter how much I asked you to talk and shook your shoulder. And then those girls were shrieking something, pointing at me, and gesturing at you, and I couldn’t understand a word and then—it all just… _snapped._”

Vitya takes a moment, staring at the wall as if it holds all the universe’s secrets. “I don’t remember what happened next. I remember being angry but mostly, I just… it _hurt_. It hurt _so much_ and I wanted to scream, and I couldn’t, and I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t hurt _more_, but I did hurt you more. I made you get up and now you’re in a hospital and I couldn’t even bring myself to visit before I left, because I-I couldn’t bear to see you like this because of _me_.” Victor gasps in a breath, and then there are more tears pouring down his face, so suddenly that Yuuri stiffens for a moment.

Then Yuuri reaches out, wiping the tears away as best he can while they fall. “Vitya. Oh, Vitya. I don’t blame you, it’s not your fault.”

“But I-I did that to you. I-I remember the noise your head made as it cracked against the ice. I remember you going _limp_ before the ambulance got there, and I thought— I _thought_—” Vitya squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m here,” Yuuri murmurs, moving his hands away only to wrap around Vitya again, weaving around him and pulling him down so he’s surrounded by Yuuri. “I pushed you to that point. You might have done whatever that was, but it isn’t just your fault Vitya. I don’t blame you. I-I love you. I just want you to be happy. I don’t blame you.”

Victor’s breath hitches and a sob breaks from his chest, his silent crying interrupted by a noise that almost doesn’t sound human.

And Yuuri doesn’t exactly know what to do. But he hasn’t known what to do this whole time and Vitya’s still here, so he just does his best. He wraps himself around Vitya as tight as he dares, and Vitya holds him even tighter in return as he just… he lets it out.

Yuuri can’t even imagine the last time Vitya cried like this if he’s so used to keeping his mask on. Even when he cried when Yuuri pushed him away, it was almost as if he didn’t notice it was happening. He didn’t _feel_ it like he seems to be feeling it now, shuddering in Yuuri’s arms until, slowly, he starts to quiet, his sniffles becoming few and far between.

Even as Yuuri aches for him, he can’t help but feel a little honored that Victor’s still somehow trusting him with this, with what most people think of as weakness and fragility. And Yuuri hasn’t _earned _it. He hasn’t earned any of it.

But he… he won’t push it away this time. Instead, this time Yuuri will be better, and he’ll _do_ better. Maybe he hasn’t earned this gift from Vitya, but he’ll accept it and be as grateful as he possibly can.

Eventually, Vitya huffs a laugh. “So much for me apologizing to you.”

“I think we both got a lot of things cleared up.” Yuuri runs his fingers through Vitya’s hair again, and how is it possible for hair to be that soft? “I accept all of your apologies.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” Vitya says softly, if falsely bright. “I know that it’s… We’ve both been through a lot.”

“We have.” That’s honestly such an understatement that it’s almost comical, except Yuuri can’t laugh at it. “But I want to stay with you. As long as you want to be next to me, I won’t ever let you go.”

Vitya’s quiet for a long moment. “Are you… You’re familiar with my free skate, aren’t you?”

That Yuuri gives a soft laugh at. “Vitya, I named my _dragon_ after you. Like you said, you’ve seen my posters. I prefer the real thing to those, but yeah. I’m pretty familiar with your free skate music.”

“You know so much about me and yet I know so little about you…” Vitya trails off into a yawn.

Yuuri can’t help but smile, even as he tries not to think about how Victor hasn’t quite answered the question he raised; if he wants Yuuri to stay. He _knows_ better, but… “No, Vitya. I have a lot to learn about you, and you have a lot to learn about me, but I… I think that’s how it’s supposed to be? Most of my soulmates are my family and I lived a lot of my life with them, but I still don’t know everything about Phichit. I don’t know anything other than what I can guess about Vicchan’s past. I’m not the best at this, but I think that we can do better from here on out.”

“I like the sound of that.” Victor nuzzles into Yuuri, and Yuuri doesn’t _know_ if that was a kiss pressed against his shoulder, but he kind of hopes it was. “I just… I just want to stay next to you too, Yuuri.” He whispers it like he almost wants to hide it, like the words don’t light up inside Yuuri and warm him as if he’s actually there and can feel the heat of Victor against his skin.

“Then I’ll do the same,” Yuuri says softly.

Victor gives a sleepy hum in return.

And Yuuri suddenly remembers that Victor hasn’t been sleeping well. He hasn’t been eating well, and he’s been overworking himself.

“Come on, let’s go to bed. I mean.” Yuuri freezes as he almost moves off the couch. “Assuming it’s okay? If I sleep with you. Just _sleep_ though, like before. Like Detroit.”

“_Please_,” Victor pleads, tilting his head up to look up at Yuuri. “I’ve missed you _so much_.”

Yuuri almost scolds him for not asking for it then—but Vitya doesn’t need that guilt. So instead he kisses Vitya on the forehead, above those red-rimmed eyes, shifts himself so one arm is around Vitya’s shoulders and one under his legs, and lifts them both off the couch.

Vitya gasps, throwing his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. “My Yuuri! So _strong_.”

And Yuuri both beams even as he blushes because, _yes_, he is Vitya’s Yuuri. And he’ll stay that way for as long as he possibly can.

He doesn’t comment as Vitya rests his head against Yuuri’s shoulder. He doesn’t look around Vitya’s room too much as they enter it, even if the curiosity’s been eating at him for days. He just carefully sets Vitya down, let’s him get comfortable under the sheets, and crawls in after him.

Vitya instantly wraps around him and Yuuri sucks in a breath as his chest and eyes _burn_. No wonder Vitya clung to him so much before, and now—

And now Yuuri’s going to let Vitya cling as much as he wants.

In fact, he’s going to cling back whenever he can. He’s going to let Vitya know that he needs him as much as Vitya needs Yuuri, because—

Because he _does_ need him, doesn’t he?

Yuuri tries not to stiffen too much, even though it’s taken less than no time for Vitya’s breathing to even out. He must have been more exhausted than he let on…

And if Yuuri hadn’t tried to take care of him, he’d still be pushing forward, wouldn’t he? He needs to have someone look out for him, just like Yuuri needs the same.

The thought shouldn’t be a revelation. It wouldn’t be, probably, for anyone else. But of course it was _so easy_ for Yuuri to assume that he was the one who needed Vitya’s support after Sochi, while he was trying to cope with going back to Hasetsu. Vitya was supposed to be perfect and put-together and faultless; an idol in Yuuri’s mind. He was bringing out the best in Yuuri, slowly but surely, and there wasn’t anything Yuuri could possibly do for Victor.

He was wrong. He was so, _so_ very wrong.

He’s not sure why, and he’s not sure how it ended up being Yuuri, of all people, but Vitya _needs_ him and Yuuri’s willing to give Vitya every single part of him that he wants. And he needs to show it to Victor too, not to just say it—to _prove_ that he means it. He’s already broken Victor’s heart too many times for only words to make everything okay again.

Victor’s been reaching out time after time, asking Yuuri to take his hand, and Yuuri being too afraid to do so. 

It’s time to reach back.

He doesn’t know how. He never does. Especially not now that he’s like _this_…

Yuuri yawns, almost feeling sleepy. Maybe it’s contagious. Maybe that’s how Victor was able to just lay with Yuuri all those nights…

Well, for now, Yuuri can rest. He’ll cuddle Vitya, and he’ll love him, and he’ll prove he means everything he says. He’s made it this far while figuring out how to make it all up to Vitya as he goes, and he’s not about to give up and roll over now. For once, his stubbornness is coming in handy. But _man_, his eyes are heavy. He can’t even think straight. Well, at least he’ll have time with his thoughts tomorrow…

So Yuuri closes his eyes.

And he falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ouo
> 
> The communication train continues! HOPE YOU GUYS ARE READY FOR A ONE-WAY TICKET TO FLUFFVILLE. There are some Emotions yet to conquer, but the worst of the angst is over, YOU SURVIVED!!!   
  
I hope that everyone's staying safe and well!!! If you happen to be isolated and needing an escape, I have the ebook of my novel up for grabs (here's the [Twitter post](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1239574167055450118) and the [Tumblr post](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/612784169134735360/kazul9-were-all-stuck-at-home-things-kinda)!), so feel free to download and share around! Things are really craptastic, I can barely keep focused on anything, so I figured I'd offer what little bit of good I can into the world--an escape into another universe for awhile. If you read and have a second, leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads would help a lot, too! :D
> 
> As always, shout out to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being amazing and fabulous! And thank you to everyone out there giving this a read, and especially those taking the time to comment--thank you <3
> 
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	28. Twenty-Eight

Yuuri doesn’t feel right. It’s hard to focus on anything. Sound doesn’t make any sense. Light _hurts_. Breathing is hard.

Breathing… is _hard_.

He hasn’t needed to breathe for days, but now he needs to breathe again.

His breaths quicken, shorten, and the sounds around him rise, crashing over him until things begin to stick out. Beeping. Voices. Loud voices, speaking in Japanese.

He squints open his eyes, the light burning and making his eyes water, but he doesn’t give up. He keeps them cracked, he keeps on breathing, and sweat builds a little on his brow—

It’s weird, being warm.

It’s been days, but it doesn’t feel right to be _warm_. Did Vitya feel like this every morning?

“Vitya,” Yuuri gasps, and his voice isn’t right, so raspy it’s hardly understandable even to his own ears.

Vitya’s going to wake up alone. After all of that, Vitya’s going to wake up alone, and— and— Yuuri didn’t _mean_ to wake up. Maybe… He can go back to sleep. He has to. He needs to just close his eyes and—

“Yuuri? Yuuri can you hear me?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, even as he can barely make anything out. It’s too _bright_. “Mom?”

“_Yuuri_.”

There are arms around him and there’s _warmth_. So, so much warmth and it feels so nice that Yuuri almost bursts with all of it filling him to the brim. “I-I’m sorry,” he manages, somehow, even as tears build in his eyes and spill onto his cheeks.

Oh, those are warm, too.

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize.”

Wait. It’s not just his mom, that’s—_Mari._

Yuuri lifts his arm and _oh_, wow, that’s heavier than he remembers. But he fights against his own body, reaching out to Mari because he _needs_ her. Yuuri isn’t as tactile a person as Victor, normally. But right now his body feels weird and he doesn’t have Vitya and he’s _alive_ and he wasn’t sure that he would ever wake up again and—

And then there are more arms around him—and _more _as both Mari and his dad join the hug. Yuuri’s vaguely aware that he’s not the only one crying, but he can’t hear much over his own hiccups and gasps.

It’s so much, _too_ much, but Yuuri can’t get enough. He needs more. He needs to keep feeling that he’s _here_. A part of him had assumed that he wouldn’t wake up, that maybe this was what he deserved. He just wanted to make Vitya feel loved before he disappeared, he wanted to make sure he gave enough to Vitya that he might be okay once he’s gone.

But now he’s gone but not forever.

Eventually, their sobs calm down until their breathing is a little more steady, and all that’s left are consistent sniffles and gasped breaths. A voice rings out in the room, speaking too fast for Yuuri to make sense of right now, before his family pulls away.

His mom settles back into a chair, taking Yuuri’s hand in hers. Mari stands and leans against the bed, trying to look casual despite her eyes being as red-rimmed as the rest of them. His dad takes a step back as a nurse steps in between the lot of them, eyes flicking around and a little anxious to be interrupting something, and Yuuri almost laughs at it.

She asks him some questions that Yuuri forgets the moment that he answers them. His head feels… heavy. And stuffed. And he’s a little sore now that he thinks about it, but he can’t focus on exactly where he’s sore, just that everything’s not _right_.

But the nurse seems satisfied at least, rattling off instructions that Yuuri tries to pay attention to and mostly fails, but he _does_ latch onto the fact that a doctor will be by to talk to him shortly.

“Do you needanything, Yuuri?” Yuuri’s dad places a hand on Yuuri’s knee, and he has to take a moment to soak in the contact, the _warmth_. They’re here. He’s here. This is real, and it’s happening, even though it doesn’t _feel_ real. “Do you need anything to drink? Are you cold, or too warm? How about your pillows, do they need to be adjusted?”

Yuuri’s mom lifts her other hand to place it on his dad’s shoulder. “Don’t fret too much, dear. He can talk now, he can tell us if he needs anything.”

_Now_. The weight of reality smacks Yuuri in the face like a brick. While Yuuri was running around Saint Petersburg after Victor, Yuuri’s family and friends could only sit here beside him, counting his breaths and hoping he took another. Watching his heart monitor, wondering if it would stop beating. Even if Yuuko was getting updates from Yurio about Yuuri being active and okay in Saint Petersburg, all of them knew that it was no guarantee that Yuuri would wake up _here_. There was no actual proof that Yuuri was okay while he slept.

“Thank you,” Yuuri rasps out, voice raw from misuse and tears. “For… for taking care of me. I’m s-sorry.”

“Yuuri,” Yuuri’s mom scolds, clasping his hand tighter. “You didn’t do this on purpose. You didn’t do this at _all_. I’m just happy that we were able to be here with you when you woke up.”

Yuuri closes his eyes for a minute, fighting back another round of tears that he doesn’t know if he has the energy to deal with. With a deep breath, he smiles at his mom, and she smiles back.

He feels like now should be the time to ask how long he’s been asleep or what exactly happened or one of those questions that seem normal to ask when waking up from something like this, but he knows the answers to those already. Honestly, he knows way too much for someone who’s been in a coma for at least a week.

But there’s someone who doesn’t know anything at all, and that fact lurks in the back of his mind, growing larger until he can’t ignore it anymore.

“Can I… Is my phone here?” He wants to be with his family, to talk with them and make sure they’re all okay after all of this, of course he does. But he _needs _to do this before anything else.

Mari rolls her eyes, already reaching to the bedside table next to Yuuri, lifting his phone off it. “It’s those Russians, isn’t it?”

Yuuri blinks up at her, taking a second to process her words. “Huh?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” Mari smiles as she glances down, unlocking his phone. “Yuuko’s been keeping us up to date, and your Russian soulmates aren’t exactly shy. I feel like all of your soulmates outside the family are extra loud to make up for how quiet you can get.”

Yuuri flushes and it’s _warm_. The heat crawls through him in a tingling way that’s almost uncomfortable with how long he’s been numb. It takes him a moment to get over the sensation, and then the blush deepens as he has to think about what Mari said. It’s not like he didn’t know about Vitya and Yurio contacting Yuuko and whoever else. He wasn’t intentionally playing dumb though, he just… his thoughts are all muddled and it’s hard to keep everything straight.

Instead of answering, Yuuri just lifts up his hand, curling his fingers a little in a wordless plea for his phone and not caring if it looks pathetic. He’ll use whatever he needs to so that he can talk to Vitya—or at least Yurio. Something tells him that Vitya’s not checking Instagram and Yuuri still _really_ needs to get Vitya’s phone number.

Yuuri can’t imagine Vitya waking up alone after all of that, curled in the cold of his bed and reaching for a Yuuri that’s not there. He knows how terrible that felt when it was the norm for Yuuri, when Vitya was supposed to be awake and gone from Yuuri’s bed in the morning. But now Yuuri’s been with Victor for ages, and suddenly he’s not…

Yuuri might be a master at procrastination any other time, but he can’t put this off any longer.

Mari rests the phone in his palm and _wow_ that’s heavier than it’s supposed to be, too. He can’t imagine his muscles have gotten that weak, it’s only been days—but that’s not a rabbit hole he needs to go down right now.

Instead, he sets the phone down in his lap, his mom letting go of his hand before he can even think of trying to tug it away, and he gives her a small smile before he taps at his messaging app.

Or, he tries to. It takes a few tries, his coordination fighting him every step of the way, but he gets there, opening his conversation with Yurio. And then he fights with the keyboard, both blessing and cursing autocorrect as he gets out a few, simple words.

Yuuri:

I’m okay. Please tell Vitya.

It takes less than a minute for his phone to begin vibrating with responses.

Yurio:

WHAT THE FUCK

hes been losing his shit all morning

ive been losing my shit

how the fuck dare u wake up and not tell us

are you sure ur okay

because if you arent ill come to japan and kick your ass

A grin spreads across Yuuri’s face as he slowly masters the fine movements of his fingers, typing out his next message a little easier even as it drains him just as much.

Yuuri:

So you do know how to use capitalization

Yurio:

shut up!

of all the fucking things we could be talking about

ur really doing this

thats not important right now!!!

Yuuri:

And punctuation!

Yurio:

good thing u woke up so u can see me as i kill u

Yuuri:

I love you too Yurio

Yuuri can practically see Yurio tossing his phone across the ice rink, and smiles as his eyes fall shut. Texting should _not_ exhaust him. Yuuri’s phone buzzes again and he takes a second before he glances down at it.

Yurio:

r u really ok tho

And that’s it. No sass, no snark, no anything other than… concern. Something in Yuuri’s chest _aches_. He knows that he and Yurio are soulmates, but their relationship is so different from his and Phichit’s, or his and Yuuko’s, or even his and Mari’s. Even if Mari’s snark could give Yurio’s a run for his money, it’s just… different. And of course Yuuri’s connection with Vitya is different from what he has with Yurio, but everything with Vitya is different than anything he’s had before.

There are just… There are _so many people_ around Yuuri that care for him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mari’s hand falls on the top of Yuuri’s head, ruffling his hair.

And Yuuri has to blink to see her, belatedly realizing that there are tears in his eyes, now dripping down his face. “Yeah, I just—” He clears his throat, even knowing that it’s useless. “I love you. All of you.”

Mari blinks down at him for a second before she smiles and ruffles his hair. “I love you too, bro. No need to get so emotional about it.”

Yuuri laughs, wanting to retort that emotions are what he _does_, but he can’t get the words out.

“We love you too,” Yuuri’s dad says as his hand tightens gently on Yuuri’s leg, and his mom reaches out and places her hand on his arm.

They’re just—they’re too good, and Yuuri loves them _too much_. He still feels like he doesn’t deserve it, like he can’t deserve it. But that’s the point, isn’t it?

He doesn’t need to. It’s not his choice who decides to love him or how. All he can control is what he does about it. And… and he can be better about that. Even if the guilt never really goes away, he can do better. He can be better.

He _will_ be better.

Now that he’s awake and not stuck in a coma, he has all the time in the world to do just that.

Once he’s calmed down a little again, Mari ruffles his hair. “Not to rush you, bro, but you might want to answer Yurio before he comes here himself. Because we all know he will.”

Yuuri huffs a laugh, glancing up at her. “Were you reading over my shoulder?”

“Maybe.” Mari shrugs. “Someone has to make sure you’re making sense and not worrying your soulmates into traveling halfway around the world for you. Though Phichit’s already threatening to, now that he knows you’re awake.”

Yuuri frowns for a moment. He doesn’t remember seeing Mari using her phone to text anybody, but then again texting had been taking a lot of concentration. He mentally shrugs it off and picks up his own phone again, probably a little too pleased that he’s a little faster this time than before, even if the exhaustion is beginning to settle as an ache behind his eyes.

Yuuri:

Yeah

I’m awake and my family’s here 

You’ll probably hear from Yuuko soon

Yurio:

good

you better be telling the truth

Yuuri:

Would I be texting you if I weren’t ok?

Yurio:

i dunno maybe it’s an imposter

Yuuri:

The last time we talked you asked me my opinion on Milas triple axel

And you almost punched me for saying it was ok

Yurio:

fine

i guess that youre you 

ill let victor know

Yuuri:

Thank you

Yuuri lets his hand flop, the phone falling from his grip and nearly sliding to the floor—but Mari’s quick reflexes catch it.

He scowls at his hand. He didn’t think he was holding the phone that loosely.

Mari opens her mouth, probably to scold him on instinct, but then there’s a doctor in the room and all the attention is off him and on the short woman that smiles at the Katsuki family.

She talks for a _while_ as she runs Yuuri through some tests, explaining something about getting an idea about his strength and reflexes and all that. But Yuuri can barely pay attention beyond what she’s having him do. This really, _really_ shouldn’t be exhausting him so much.

After she’s done with him, she starts speaking to all of them, impressed at how well Yuuri’s doing for having just woken up. He considers explaining about how he has a weird soulmate connection that might have caused something to be different with his brain or whatever, but he doesn’t want to get into all that when he’s so out of it. If it’s important, Mari would’ve explained it already.

He’s recovering better than expected. His coma was drug-induced after he’d been through surgery to reduce the swelling in his head, and Yuuri tries not to squirm as she goes into details he’d rather not hear. It’s better to know than let his brain run wild, but that happened to _him_ and his _brain_ and _ugh_.

Still, she’s optimistic about recovery. He shouldn’t exercise much for a week, maybe two, but she’s hoping his recovery will take around a month until he’s mostly back to baseline. They have a few really good healers on staff, and that should speed up the process nicely, and then…

Then things should be normal.

No, not normal.

Whatever “normal” he had before all of this, he doesn’t want it. He wants to find his new normal here, with his family, and with Vitya.

She leaves after that, Yuuri’s head swimming and trying to absorb it all. But his brain feels like a wet sponge, heavy and useless as it flops around after all the new information.

“Are you okay?” his mom finally asks after everything’s quieted down, the attention right back on him now that they’re alone.

“Um. Yeah.” Yuuri nods a little. “I think I’ll be fine.”

She smiles at him, big and bright in a way that only she can seem to pull off. “Yes, you will.”

Yuuri tries to echo her grin even though he knows it comes out a little shallower than hers, the exhaustion dragging at every movement. This is all just _so much_. Too much. And he wishes he could go home, but he can’t, and… “Um…”

“Yeah?” Mari turns to him, putting away her phone—when did she even take it out? Either Yuuri’s more out of it than he thought, or Mari took magic lessons from Minako without Yuuri noticing.

“Ah.” Yuuri backtracks, trying to remember what he wanted to say— Oh, yeah. “Can you… Would you mind… What happened while I was, um, asleep?”

His family exchanges a look.

“It’s mostly boring,” Yuuri’s mom explains. “We were either here, with you, or at the inn. This is one of the few times we’ve all been here at once. You have good timing.”

Yuuri smiles a little. At least one part of this whole situation worked out for the best. “I know it’s been business as usual, there’s probably not much to say. But I just… please?”

He’s not even sure why he wants it, or what’s so important about it, but he really, _really_ craves it. He just… he’s somewhere strange after something really big happened last night ,and right now hearing about the onsen sounds nice.

“Of course, Yuuri.” Toshiya smiles a little, then hums a bit as he thinks before he starts talking about an incident while the soccer match was airing at the inn the other day. Eventually, Mari chimes in with her own additions, and Hiroko clasps her hands as she just smiles at them all and…

And Yuuri feels like it’s silly; he didn’t feel the urge to catch up so much when he’d been away for five years, but he _needs_ it now. He craves it and aches for it as if his body has an innate need that it can only be filled with them. And maybe it does. He sure doesn’t know anything anymore.

All he knows is that he loves his family, and he can’t imagine a world without them in it. He can’t imagine a world without Phichit, or Yuuko, or Vicchan, or Yurio, or… Victor. He’s so grateful he has them all that he just… He doesn’t know what to do about it.

He wishes they were all here, so he could hug every single last one of them. Man, having them all in one place would be… something. He’d like it though, even with the chaos that would inevitably ensue. That way Vitya could meet all of Yuuri’s other soulmates, and his family would be so happy to finally meet the infamous Victor. He wasn’t lying when he said to Victor that the entire Katsuki household would adopt him—they still would. And Victor deserves a family that loves him more than anything else. There’s so much about him to love, and too few people to do it…

Yuuri tries to listen to what his family’s saying, tries to laugh at their jokes and smile and frown when he’s supposed to, but his eyelids are just _so heavy_. No matter how much he keeps fighting them, they keep falling, and…

So, surrounded by his family’s familiar touch and familiar voices, Yuuri falls back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: I'm so, so sorry to delay the next chapter, but I absolutely have to and I'm SO sorry. The reason why I'm delaying is sad, but if you want to know, [I posted about it on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1246172994331979776)
> 
> Am I going to make falling asleep at the end of chapters a cliche? Perhaps (Jk, I don't think I do it again for awhile askjdnaksjdn)
> 
> I might be a bit delayed responding to comments because the world's beating me up (my mom probably has the plague, I'm stranded away from home and my family and kitties and doggo, among many other things), but they still mean the world to me, so thank you in advance to everyone who leaves them. <3 And I hope everyone's staying as safe and healthy as possible!!!
> 
> Thank you to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) aka the dream team, for being helping me out with this beast. :'D And thank YOU guys for reading/kudosing/commenting!!!
> 
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	29. Twenty-Nine

Yuuri opens his eyes, and it’s familiar—_much_ more familiar than his hospital room.

Lockers line the walls and stand in aisles, the sharp scent of the ice managing to seep into everything, despite how these places always smell. Locker rooms have a habit of looking about the same no matter where you go, but this one’s special. It’s the locker room in Russia, at Victor’s rink.

A flash of irritation sears through Yuuri; he’s been sleeping for literal _days_, he should be able to stay awake and talk to his family longer. Yeah, the doctor talked a lot about healing and the medications he was on and all that, but still. He knows he really shouldn’t complain at all when he knows that there’s a near-certain guarantee that he’s going to wake up again this time. There’s no reason he _shouldn’t_ wake up again.

Right?

Shaking the thought off, Yuuri wraps his arms around himself—thankfully he’s still in regular clothes. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he were used to sleeping naked, like Vitya.

_Vitya_.

If Yuuri’s here, then that means Vitya is here. At least, that’s how it seemed to work with Vitya. He certainly didn’t need a medical emergency to fall asleep and be with Yuuri. But Yakov told Vitya _not_ to be here today, that he was supposed to have two days off, which means… Yuuri tries to do the math in his head of when he woke up and fell asleep as opposed to what time it should be here, but it’s no use—he can’t work it out.

He’s not going to get anywhere just standing here.

Taking a deep breath and squaring up his shoulders, Yuuri strides to the doors leading to the rink, deciding it’s his safest bet. Thankfully enough people must be looking away that he’s able to open the doors and slip in without anyone noticing.

It’s almost comforting how everything’s almost exactly the same as it was yesterday—or whenever it was that he was last here. Yakov’s off to the side, perpetually yelling something as familiar faces make their way around the rink. Yuuri looks everywhere for a blurry flash of silver, or golden skates, but he doesn’t see anything. Though he _does_ spot another familiar face.

“Yurio!” Yuuri calls out, sprinting over to the boards and waving his arms.

Yurio almost trips over his skates as he whirls around toward Yuuri. “_You!_” Yurio starts to speed over to him, and Yuuri can’t tell if his eyes are wide with rage or concern—probably both. “Hey, you _shit_! I thought you said you were _okay_! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I—_oof_.” Yuuri lets out a huff of breath as Yurio collides with the wall and then him and— Yuuri blinks down at the top of Yurio’s head. “Are you touching me?”

“Of course I’m touching you, dumbass.” Yurio grumbles against Yuuri’s shirt, before he stiffens, then pulls away to look up at Yuuri. “Wait. What’s happening? Are you dead?”

“No, I— why is the first question you jump to is about me being dead?” Yuuri scowls and _hopes_ he isn’t dead. “Why would I be here if I was dead? I told you I was fine.”

“Obviously you’re _not_ fine, or you wouldn’t be here.” Yurio jabs a finger at Yuuri’s chest, both of them jolting when it makes contact. “And you wouldn’t be solid!”

Yuuri glances around the rink, finding most everyone’s looking their way, but he doesn’t know if it’s because they can see him, or if they can just see Yurio losing it on an empty patch of air.

This is… weird, to put it mildly. Victor was able to touch him and be seen when Yuuri was in physical danger, does that mean that Vitya’s somewhere in the rink, dying? But, wait. Vitya touched Yuuri _before_ he was injured, too. He and the triplets are the ones that knocked Yuuri over. There was something different about that day, but the only thing that Yuuri can think of is that Vitya was very, very drunk. Something tells Yuuri it would be a _very bad_ idea if he were drunk right now with, you know, recovering from surgery and probably being on some intense medication. So he can pretty safely scratch that off the list. Then is _Vitya_ drunk again? In an ice rink? It would make no sense, though…

“Yurio, where’s Victor?” Yuuri reaches out and places his hand on Yurio’s shoulder, as weird as it is to be able to do that. “I always appear where he’s nearby, and I think today’s his rest day, so—”

Something slams hard into Yuuri’s side, lifting him up—but he doesn’t go flying toward the ground. Instead, he moves… sideways? Spinning around and around and around.

“_Yuuri_!”

Yuuri finds himself being hugged tightly in place, only his head still feeling like it's spinning now. And he knows that voice, and those arms, and this man.

“_Vitya,_” Yuuri breathes as he clutches Vitya back, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and—

Vitya goes a little limp in his arms, making Yuuri huff with shock as he’s suddenly supporting both of their weight.

Yuuri laughs a little and just holds Vitya tighter. Wasn’t Vitya the one just spinning Yuuri around? “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m _fine_.” Vitya _sniffs._ It takes until then for Yuuri to register that Vitya’s crying, and he reaches up to stroke his hair. Yuuri’s not sure if it’s soothing enough or not, but he definitely needs his other arm to support Vitya so he’s a little stuck. “You’re okay. _You’re okay_.” He says something else after that, but Yuuri’s not sure whether he just can’t make it out or Vitya’s slipping into Russian.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri murmurs once Vitya quiets. “Yurio was supposed to tell you I woke up.”

“I _did_ tell him, he’s just a _moron_.” Yurio’s voice makes the both of them jump.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Yuuri nuzzles as much as he can into Vitya’s hair without distorting his words too much. “I didn’t mean to leave you, I’m _so sorry_.”

Vitya huffs a laugh, standing up a little straighter, but still leaning into Yuuri. “You didn’t mean to wake up? _Yuuri_.” Vitya pulls away, but just enough to meet his eyes. “Don’t apologize. I’m happy you’re awake.”

“But… after all that…” Yuuri frowns. “I don’t know what it must’ve been like waking up like that, I’m sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t want that for you after everything.”

“You’re here now.” Vitya smiles at him. “And you’re okay. Wait… _are_ you okay?”

Yuuri nods. “Yeah. I wasn’t awake long, but… um, it’s kind of exhausting to be awake.”

Vitya frowns at him. “Not long? But you’ve been gone for hours, at least. It’s the afternoon.”

“Oh.” Yuuri definitely wasn’t up for hours. He hadn’t been up for long at all.

“When people come out of comas, sometimes they come in and out a lot before really waking up. So you weren’t really awake, but you weren’t asleep. What?” Yurio frowns as both Vitya and Yuuri turn and gape at him. “You thought I wouldn’t do some basic fucking research on comas? Morons.”

Vitya and Yuuri exchange a look for a moment before Yuuri huffs a laugh, and Vitya leans his head down to rest on Yuuri’s shoulder while his own shoulders shake.

“Thank you, Yurio,” Yuuri says as he holds Vitya, smiling at Yurio even as his scowl deepens.

“Someone has to make sure they’re actually on top of things, and it looks like I’m the only one up for it,” Yurio huffs, even though he almost smiles before shoving it underneath an exaggerated scowl.

There’s a sharp bark of something in Russian from _much closer_ than Yuuri anticipated, and he almost drops Vitya before he catches himself.

Yurio snaps something back, glaring past where Yuuri’s standing for a moment before skating away, and Yuuri can’t move. He doesn’t want to look. Because maybe Yakov doesn’t want to murder Yuuri now, but he’s still _Yakov Feltsman_ and he did once threaten to kill him, and if he can _see_ Yuuri then, well. Yuuri would rather just… not deal with this. Ever.

“Vitya,” Yakov grumbles, and Vitya’s arms tighten around Yuuri.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. He can do this. He has Vitya. And he doesn’t _think_ he can be murdered like this, away from his body.

Yuuri turns around. Yakov stands a few paces away with his eyes pinned to Victor. There’s a scowl on his face, but he doesn’t look _angry,_ exactly. More like he’s worn that expression so often and so long that it’s just what his face looks like.

“Yakov!” Vitya beams at him. “Look what I found!”

Yuuri stiffens as Yakov’s eyes move over to search him… But he doesn’t focus on anything. Like he’s still looking right through Yuuri.

Yuuri lets out a long breath.

“I don’t see anything, Vitya.” Yakov looks back at Vitya, and then at how his arms wrap around Yuuri—or probably nothing, to his eyes. “I take it your search was successful?”

“Yes! Yuuri’s here!” Victor stands up straight, taking his own weight and lifting Yuuri up a little again as he does, making him squeak. “Can’t you see him?”

“All I saw was you leaning on absolutely nothing, so I assume that something’s changed?” Yakov raises an eyebrow.

Vitya turns back to Yuuri. “Did something change?”

Yuuri blinks at him. “Uh… Well, I woke up? And we… I think we’re better than we were before. Right?”

Vitya’s smile becomes a little more gentle than before, but it’s real. It’s all been so real, and so _good_ that Yuuri has to wonder if this is a dream instead of him actually projecting his spirit to Russia or however this soulmate thing works.

“Right.” Vitya leans forward and kisses Yuuri on the forehead—and that just stops _everything _in Yuuri’s head.

Yuuri’s cheeks tingle in the way that means he’s blushing, and his breath stutters, and it’s not _fair_ for Vitya to just spring that on him—but he also wants Vitya to do it again. He wasn’t expecting Vitya to reciprocate his kisses from yesterday, it wasn’t why he did it. Yuuri just couldn’t help himself and wanted to comfort Vitya however he could, but he’ll _happily_ take whatever Victor wants to give in return.

Vitya smiles down at Yuuri as he gets more and more flustered. “I’m not sure what it was that changed and made it so I can touch him, but I can, yes.”

“Good,” Yakov grumbles, and it sounds fonder than a grumble has any right to. “Then get out of my rink. You have no more excuses to be here.”

Vitya turns to Yuuri. “Are you okay to leave here?”

Yuuri blinks at him, trying and failing to figure out why he’s asking. “Yeah, I’m fine. So long as I’m with you, I’m good.”

And—_oh_. That soft pink blush spreads across Vitya’s nose and lightly touches his cheeks, and it’s so pretty. Yuuri wishes he could kiss that, too, but that’d probably be a little too much, too soon. And they’re in the middle of a crowded rink, and… Yeah, he’ll wait. He can wait. He has _time_ now.

“Okay,” Vitya says softly, mouth opening like he wants to say more, before he cuts himself off and turns to Yakov. “All right, we’ll be off then! Thank you for letting me search here, Yakov.”

“Better than you being on your own when you’re like that,” Yakov huffs, then his attention shifts to the rink and he barks something in Russian, stepping past Vitya and Yuuri to lean against the boards.

“Um.” Yuuri shifts slightly, glancing at the ice before looking back up at Vitya, who’s still holding Yuuri so that only his toes are touching the ground. “You have to let go if we’re going to leave.”

Vitya raises his eyebrows. “You first.”

Yuuri snorts, grinning. They aren’t teenagers, they outgrew silly games like this a long time ago—but he’ll play them if Vitya wants to. “Why should I?”

Victor’s smile grows wide and heart-shaped. “Because I held you first.”

“Exactly, so you should let go first.”

“Will you two _shut up!_” Yurio screams at them from the boards, before Yakov snaps something at him and he sets off with an, “_Ugh_!” that might rattle the windows.

Yuuri laughs, then leans forward to kiss the tip of Victor’s nose, shocking him enough that it accomplishes the two things that Yuuri wanted:

First, it deepens that little blush on his nose.

Second, it loosens his grip enough that Yuuri slips free before taking Vitya’s hand.

“Where are we going?” Yuuri squeezes Vitya’s fingers slightly, pulling him out of his shocked stare. Vitya _started_ it with the forehead kiss, he shouldn’t be surprised. “Back to the apartment?”

Vitya’s lips spread back into that smile he had on before. “I promised to take you sightseeing, did I not?”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s eyes widen for a moment. He’d get to see Vitya’s hometown, where _Victor Nikiforov_ spends all his time—but that’s not really that important right now. “You did, but you have to be tired. If you were looking for me all morning…”

“I slept really well last night, and I slept in,” Vitya admits, almost sheepishly. “I’m not really that tired. And I’d like to, if you want to. We don’t have to, of course. We can just go back to the apartment, or you can go look around without me if you’d prefer…”

Yuuri frowns a little. Back to this. “I said I’m fine so long as I’m with you, and I meant it. If I want some time by myself, I’ll let you know. But now that I can wake up, we only have so much time every day together, and I’d love to see your city.”

Vitya lights up from the inside, and Yuuri can’t help but warm a little at the sight, even as something in his stomach twists. Vitya shouldn’t be this surprised by Yuuri wanting to spend time with him. Yuuri still has a _lot_ of work to do.

But for now, Vitya smiles and drags Yuuri from the rink, already talking a mile a minute about where he’d like to take Yuuri, but how it won’t all fit into one day, and then there are the restaurants they can’t go to because Yuuri can’t eat…

Yuuri briefly considers traveling to Russia just to be able to do all that Vitya’s so excited for them to do, but he decides to set that idea on the back burner for now. On top of money being an issue, he’s probably not going to be able to travel for _a while_, much less have the energy to be able to traipse all around Saint Petersburg. Honestly, it’s better that he can be with Vitya like this right now so that Vitya doesn’t feel obligated to stay in a tiny hospital room with him all the time, and Yuuri doesn’t go stir crazy. After Yuuri’s better, well… They’ll talk about it.

It turns out that once Vitya _starts_, he won’t stop. He keeps talking about everything they pass, but he doesn’t tell him historical facts that Yuuri probably won’t remember anyway. Instead he recounts any memories he might’ve had there, or what he thinks about the architecture, or anything that pops into his head. And there is a _lot_ to talk about; Saint Petersburg is a gorgeous city.

But if Yuuri had to put a name to Vitya’s ramblings, he’d say it’s not exactly enthusiastic, though that’s there too. It’s… nervous.

And it’s very, very weird for Yuuri to not be the nervous one, for once.

So Yuuri just listens and asks questions when he has them, never letting go of Vitya’s hand the entire trip around Saint Petersburg. It seems like spring’s finally settling in there, the snow melting and the sun shining through, and it feels… right. To be here, to be with Vitya, to be talking and spending time together.

As the sun sets, Vitya begins to flag a little, becoming quieter and quieter until Yuuri suggests heading back. Victor agrees more enthusiastically than he has to, and Yuuri bites back a grin as they make their way back home. 

When Vitya goes to shower, Yuuri takes the opportunity to make dinner, much to Vitya’s protests when he comes out. And it feels like a routine, natural, even though they never quite settled into something normal and happy before.

“Did you enjoy it? You had an okay time?” Vitya asks as he loads the dishwasher—beating Yuuri to it, even though they argued a little bit over it before Yuuri gave in. Victor’s puppy dog eyes are too powerful, as Yuuri learned well in Detroit, and Yuuri’s going to have a hell of a time learning to cope with them.

“I had a perfect time. I made you dinner as a thank you, didn’t I?” Yuuri smiles before he wrinkles his nose a little. “I hope it tasted all right since I can’t really taste right now.”

“It tasted perfect. Thank you, Yuuri, but you know that you owe me nothing, don’t you?” Vitya finishes with the dishwasher, shutting it and walking over to where Yuuri leans against the counter, brushing his lips against Yuuri’s cheek for a quick kiss.

Yuuri sucks in a breath, heart hammering in his chest as he meets Victor’s eyes. He’s so close that if he were really there, maybe he could feel the heat of Victor’s breath against his skin.

“I know I don’t owe you anything,” Yuuri says softly. “But I care about you.”

“And I…” Vitya stares at Yuuri for a moment—

Before he yawns.

Yuuri _tries_ not to laugh, he really does, but he can’t help it. Giggles escape him before he finally gives in and lets out the guffaws he can’t hold back.

“_Yuuri,_” Vitya whines, draping himself over Yuuri. “So cruel, laughing over my exhaustion.”

“Should we go to bed?” Yuuri wraps his arms loosely around Vitya, not wanting to get too comfortable here, but also not able to help himself.

“Mmm,” Vitya hums noncommittally, clutching Yuuri a little tighter, like he’s afraid he’ll disappear.

Which, well. He probably will disappear sometime during the night. How long has Yuuri been here? How long has he been asleep in Japan?

“I’ll be here again tomorrow, you know,” Yuuri murmurs, soft and tentative.

“But I’ll be skating again tomorrow, and what if…” There are too many directions that question could go in, Yuuri can only begin to guess what Victor’s worrying about. What if Yuuri doesn’t come back? What if everything changes again tomorrow? What if Yuuri’s injury gets worse instead of better?

And Yuuri doesn’t have those answers, though they’d be very, very nice to have_._ So instead, he does what he can. He wraps his arms tighter around Victor, lifts him up, and starts walking toward the bedroom.

Vitya splutters for a few seconds before breaking out in laughter, barely able to try and ask Yuuri to put him down.

Which Yuuri does, gently, on the bed.

“Wow, my Yuuri is so strong!” Vitya finally manages between his giggles, getting back up to his feet and planting a quick peck against Yuuri’s forehead before getting up to get ready for bed.

Yuuri purposefully turns away as Vitya gets undressed. It’s not that he hasn’t seen Vitya naked and nearly naked—he’s seen that probably more than most married couples see their partner naked. But seeing someone take their clothes off is just— It’s too much. “Well, it’s not my fault you’re stubborn.”

“Remind me to be stubborn more often.” The smile is obvious in Vitya’s voice.

Yuuri turns to find Vitya stripped down to his thong, as per usual, and he winks at Yuuri before he heads to the bathroom.

Yuuri tries to deny the fact that he’s flushing even as he feels the tingling in his cheeks, and fails. With a sigh, he turns and eyes the bed. Vitya didn’t seem to be upset that he was in his room right now, and they’ve slept together so many times already… But Vitya’s still not sure about Yuuri _wanting_ to be here. So Yuuri makes the call before he can think too much about it and crawls into the bed.

He hadn’t had much time to check out this room last night, but the bed is large and very comfortable, especially when compared to Yuuri’s mattress back home, and even more so when compared to his bed back in Detroit. It’s a wonder that Vitya didn’t try and send him a new bed, what with how often he slept on Yuuri’s.

Vitya walks back into the room, and Yuuri stiffens just a little until a smile breaks across Vitya’s face as he meets Yuuri’s eyes. Vitya wastes no time crawling in with Yuuri, wrapping around him and pressing his face against Yuuri’s chest.

Vitya’s grip is tighter than Yuuri ever remembers it being, but after the past twenty-four hours, Yuuri doesn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry I scared you so badly,” Yuuri says softly into the darkness of the room, reaching up to run his hands through Vitya’s hair.

“_Yuuri_. No apologizing.” Vitya leans in a little closer, and Yuuri can’t be _sure_, but it almost feels like Vitya kissed him again, over where his shirt rests against his collarbone. “Now that you’re recovering, there’s even less to be scared about. It’s all right. We’re all right.”

Yuuri takes a shaking breath, trying to let the words sink in and become real. It’s harder than he wishes it were to believe them, but he doesn’t let himself doubt it. “We’re all right.” Yuuri barely dares to repeat the words as a whisper.

This time, Yuuri’s sure when he feels Vitya smile against his shirt, and Yuuri pulls him in a little tighter. Yuuri’s missed being able to sleep with Vitya, and it’s different like this, without Yuuri being the one to fall to sleep. But it’s nice to just listen as Vitya’s breathing evens out, as his limbs go a little more limp around Yuuri. It’s relaxing to the point where Yuuri eventually worries that he might fall asleep. The soft, rhythmic breaths as Vitya presses himself closer lures Yuuri into closing his eyes and letting his own arms relax around Vitya, the darkness creeping in… 

Until it’s not dark anymore.

It’s too bright _again_, and Yuuri feels off and odd, and…

And he’s not alone in his tiny hospital bed.

Vitya’s curled up here with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISED YOU SOFT THINGS AND I INTEND TO DELIVER!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is only the beginning (and my alphas and betas have confirmed this, so I know it's not just an author-thing), just you wait. 
> 
> Also! As to the wait time on this chapter, I'm so, so sorry. I lost my remaining pup last Friday and it was a very difficult experience since I'm not even living at home right now. I was struggling with my depression and isolation already, and needless to say, that didn't help! So though comments are muchly appreciated and brighten my day more than words can say, I'm sorry if it takes a few days to reply. <3 Social spoons are my lowest spoon stash atm, despite how much I miss and appreciate you guys ):
> 
> Also also, thank you to the fabulous dream team [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi), and [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) for helping me out with this monster!!!
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	30. Thirty

You’d think that Yuuri would be used to having Victor around _constantly_ at this point. He’d been stuck in Saint Petersburg for days before this, and then he’d had Victor in Detroit for… he doesn’t want to do the math and remember how many weeks.

But it’s still strange to have Vitya here, in his hospital room.

Luckily it’s only Mari there when Yuuri wakes up early in the morning, his limbs strangely propped up around an object she can’t see.

The first thing she does is raise an eyebrow and wrinkle her nose. “Yuuri, they said no strenuous physical activity.”

Of course she says it in English.

When the hell did she pick up the word _“strenuous?”_

Yuuri groans and turns to press his face into a pillow as Victor laughs next to him—and Yuuri can’t be too mad or embarrassed when Vitya laughs like that.

“I like her,” Vitya says, and when Yuuri looks up he has a real smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes.

That’s the expression he has when he meets all of the Katsukis, and it makes something in Yuuri’s heart clench and almost ache to see it on his face. He doesn’t entirely understand it; he’s still too tired and grumpy to really make sense of everything going on, much to his family and Victor’s amusement.

His family seems just as pleased as he is that Vitya’s here. Even if they can’t hear him or see him, they try their best to include him in conversation. Yuuri acts as Vitya’s mouthpiece most of the day when someone’s around to be with him, and the rest of the time that Vitya’s there, they either lie together—no matter how much Yuuri protests that the nurses probably wouldn’t like that, Vitya just says, “But they can’t see me or touch me, Yuuri, they can’t do anything about it!”—and talk quietly about anything and everything, or they lay quietly while Yuuri runs his fingers through Vitya’s hair, and Vitya holds him so gently and carefully that it makes Yuuri ache in an entirely new way.

Right now it’s just Hiroko with them, so Vitya’s being good and staying mostly off the bed, just sitting on the edge of it. Yuuri keeps telling his family that no one has to be around to watch over him. It’s not like he could get up to much trouble even if he _wanted _to, but everyone just ignores him and keeps showing up so he’s admitting defeat in that battle. 

Yuuri’s phone goes off on the nightstand next to him, and he smiles to see Phichit’s name on the screen.

“Oh.”

Yuuri glances behind him, finding Vitya frowning down at the screen.

Yuuri’s brow furrows. “It’s just Phichit. I’m sure he just wants to make sure I’m okay.”

“Oh, it’s not that.” Vitya gives him a grin, and while it’s not forced, it’s not happy either. “It’s just… if my math is correct, my alarm will go off in a few minutes, and…”

And Yuuri won’t be there. It probably won’t be long before Yuuri follows Vitya with how hard doing _everything_ is, and how worn down he is from the few hours he’s been awake. He’s not sure if he had somehow slept with Vitya for a while back in Saint Petersburg or had gone into that weird meditative state before he woke up here with Vitya, but some time passed before they were in the hospital together. And now they don’t have much time left before Vitya’s gone. And he’ll be back again, he _will_, but… but…

Yuuri drops his phone and holds out his arms.

Vitya instantly lets out a breath and leans into Yuuri, practically laying on top of him.

“I’ll be with you in a few hours, at the very latest,” Yuuri murmurs into Victor’s hair, closing his eyes.

“I know. It’s silly, and I know it’s silly, I just—” Vitya cuts himself off, and doesn’t make to continue.

Yuuri sighs. “I know. I… I know. I don’t want it, either.”

Vitya’s right, it is silly, but it sucks. They’re just starting to get things right and Yuuri’s hospital-bound, and now they can fall asleep together again, but Vitya’s going to wake up without him, and—

“Is everything okay?” Yuuri’s mom asks softly, her hand falling on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri blinks up at her, even as he holds Vitya tighter. “Oh, um. Vitya’s waking up soon, his alarm’s going to go off.”

“Oh.” She frowns for a moment, then smiles a bit. “You two should exchange your phone numbers, then.”

Yuuri blinks at her. “W-what?”

“Well, obviously you don’t know Vicchan’s number, considering the first person you texted wasn’t him when you two are so close.” She shrugs. “That way you two can stay in contact.”

“Oh,” Vitya says softly, then pulls away. “Yuuri—”

“Yeah.” Yuuri snatches up his phone opening a new contact and almost handing it over before he realizes that Vitya’s fingers probably won’t work for this. “What is it? Your number.”

Vitya rattles it off and Yuuri enters it in as fast as he can, quickly pulling up a new chat and typing out a message really quickly so that Vitya will have his number when he wakes up.

“There.” Yuuri smiles up at Vitya.

Vitya smiles back, though there’s a gleam in his eyes that has Yuuri wary. “I can’t believe that after everything, after all the times I begged and pleaded and bargained for your phone number, it was your _mom_ that helped me get it.”

Yuuri brings his hands up to his face and lets out a groan while Vitya laughs and pulls gently at his hands.

Vitya eventually relents, though, instead leaning closer and pressing his lips to Yuuri’s forehead—and Yuuri is _never_ going to get used to that, but he still wants more of it. “I’ll see you later, Yuuri.”

And by the time that Yuuri looks up, Vitya’s gone.

Yuuri looks around for a second even though he _knows_. He can’t help the tears that prick at his eyes. This isn’t fair.

“Vicchan’s gone, now?” his mom asks softly.

Yuuri takes a breath, purposefully ignoring the way that it shakes. “Um. Yeah. He has my number, though, so I’m sure that he’ll—” Yuuri’s phone vibrates in his hand, and he glances down to see the preview of Vitya’s messages as they come in.

Vitya:

Yuuri!

Good morning!!!

Are you okay?

Yuuri smiles as he goes into his messages, typing with fingers much more sure than yesterday.

Yuuri:

You just saw me

Vitya:

But I can’t see you now!

Yuuri hesitates for a moment, glancing over at his mom to see her smiling at him in a way that might be a little more indulgent than anything else. Well, Yuuri’s already been ridiculous with Vitya in front of everyone in Russia and here, he might as well go all the way.

He opens up his camera, holds out his phone, and gives a tentative smile before taking a selfie. He looks at it for just a second—why does he always look so awkward and off in photos?—he makes himself stop thinking about how tired and gross he looks and sends it off to Vitya.

He might hate it, but he knows what proof means to Vitya. Yuuri might have let Vitya know that he was real through an Instagram post, but sending a selfie—even if he’s exhausted and beat up and the lighting’s all weird—means that Yuuri’s reaching out to Vitya specifically. That he’s letting him know that Yuuri believes he exists and he cares.

At least, he thinks that’s what he’s saying. He hopes. Oh no, Vitya wouldn’t want a selfie of him in a _hospital_ because of an injury he blames himself for. Oh no, Yuuri didn’t think about this enough, he—

Yuuri’s phone buzzes and he only hesitates for a moment before another message buzzes in, and he has to know.

Vitya:

!!!!!!!!!

Yuuri!

Just as beautiful as I remember when I was asleep

Yuuri flushes, his cheeks _burning _as rows and rows of heart emojis flood his phone. Okay, maybe it was a good idea to send it. Even if Yuuri kind of wants to scream into his pillow a little.

But then a picture loads in their messages. And everything in him screeches to a halt.

It’s Vitya. But it’s nothing like the posters that line Yuuri’s walls, or all the clippings that he has from magazines. It’s not even like the plethora of pictures that Vitya posts to Instagram.

No, it’s _his_ Vitya. He has the worst case of bedhead Yuuri’s ever seen, and his eyes are still a little squinted and sleepy, but his _smile_. It’s wide, and it’s heart-shaped, and it’s so real and vibrant. Like Vitya couldn’t help himself, like there was no holding it back even if he tried. He’s illuminated by the faint, morning glow of the sunrise through his windows and…

And this is the best, most beautiful picture of Victor Nikiforov that Yuuri’s ever laid his eyes on. Yuuri barely resists the urge to clutch his phone to his chest and try to convince himself that his life is real. Instead, he forces his fingers to move, typing as fast as he can before he can think too much about it and hits send.

Yuuri:

I think that you’re the beautiful one.

At this rate, Yuuri’s cheeks are going to catch on fire with how hot they are. At least he’s in a hospital if they do?

Yuuri is somehow not even remotely surprised at the sheer amount of heart emojis he gets in response to his message. Heart emojis wouldn’t be a thing he would think his image of Victor Nikiforov would use, nor the sheer amount of exclamation points that are used in most messages. But it fits Vitya too well.

“Is Vicchan all right?” his mom asks, her grin now almost smug.

If this were Mari, Yuuri would just stick his tongue out at her. But it isn’t, so Yuuri says, “Um, yeah. He woke up okay.”

“Good!” Hiroko clasps her hands together. “It was so nice to meet him.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. “But… You didn’t even see him?”

“No, I didn’t see _him_.” Hiroko shakes her head, as if Yuuri’s being silly. “But you passed along to us what he said, and I saw the way he made you smile. I didn’t need to see him to know him.”

Yuuri stares at his mom and smiles a bit. That is true. Yuuri’s family got to know at least a little bit of Victor, and that’s good even if Yuuri both wishes Victor was actually there and fears what would happen if they actually met. Between Vitya being an unstoppable force and his mom’s unshakable will, the baby pictures would be out within seconds. But then again, it would make Vitya happy…

Well, that can’t exactly happen yet, so it doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter is that no one seems to hate Vitya, and Vitya’s enamored by his family. And that’s with them barely spending any time with each other at all. If they get to know each other even better, if they meet for real, Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised to find that they’re soulmates.

Except… Vitya isn’t even soulmates with Makkachin, or Yurio, or Yakov. Even though they obviously care deeply about each other. And Yuuri’s already run himself in circles about this, about how Victor must have so many soulmates. If only…

“Mom?” Yuuri turns his eyes down to his hands, flipping his phone around and tracing the little Vicchan-like ice dragons all over the case.

“Yes, Yuuri?” There’s an edge of concern in her voice, maybe because of Yuuri’s shift in mood, and Yuuri wishes he could take it back.

But he’s not going to take it back. This isn’t just for him, after all. “Do you know why you and Dad took so long to present as soulmates? I mean, you knew each other for so long, you even got married before your soulmate marks appeared…”

She’s quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching Yuuri’s face. “Yuuri, you and Vicchan are soulmates already.” She laughs a little. “Both the Vicchans are your soulmates!”

Yuuri flushes again, but smiles. She’s not wrong, and honestly Yuuri can’t wait until he’s well enough that he can go and collapse against Vicchan’s side. “I-I know. I’m not asking about me. Um…” Yuuri’s eyes flick up, meeting the ever-patient face of his mother, and he weighs how much he should tell her.

He knows she won’t tell a soul. Hiroko will take her _massive_ collection of secrets to her grave. And he doesn’t want to gossip; Vitya told him all that he did because he _trusts_ Yuuri, but… he doesn’t know what to do. Because Vitya deserves better, and Yuuri can’t give that to him alone. And if Yuuri’s learned anything, it’s that he should stop running from help, and… this is his mom. He trusts her. Yuuri takes a deep breath. “Well. Victor… he doesn’t have any other soulmates.”

“Oh.” Hiroko’s mouth pops open, her eyes wide. “But he seems like such a nice boy.”

“He _is_. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. It doesn’t make any sense.” Yuuri shakes his head, scowling. “And he has so many people that care about him. Like _really_ care about him. You’ve seen what Yurio did for him, that was more than most people would do for people who _are_ their soulmates.”

“Yes,” Hiroko agrees, glancing toward the window and taking a moment to watch the leaves shifting in the wind just outside. “That is very strange…”

Yuuri lets out a sigh. If it’s weird for his mom, then obviously she doesn’t have an answer, either. Yuuri’s on his own with this, again. And he doesn’t even know where to begin searching for an answer.

How Victor and Yuuri are connected is so strange and different from any other soulmate that Yuuri’s had before, the rest are so simple. And it’s taken so much faith and belief to keep their connection strong—they lost it for years after they were children, and then again when Yuuri destroyed it. Maybe Victor needs to have more trust in his own soulmates? But _how,_ when he’s been without soulmates for so long? And Yuuri bringing all that up, when he has so many more soulmates than Vitya is a bit… 

“When your father and I were younger,” Hiroko starts, words slow. “We’d known each other—or at least we knew _of_ each other—for a long time. Hasetsu was even smaller back then, even if we used to have more tourists. Everyone had already presented with their soulmates within the town by the time we were in middle school. We had both assumed that everyone that mattered to us in Hasetsu were people we already met.

“But once we were older, after we shared a class together, we just… fell into each other’s routines. We were in perfect orbit around each other, always there, always a part of everything. It seemed like we couldn’t be soulmates because it was too late—but it didn’t stop me from falling in love with him.”

She smiles, her gaze distant as she speaks. “I knew before he did that there was no one else I wanted to spend the rest of my life beside. It was still hard for both of us, though. For a long time we pretended to be soulmates, said that we had invisible connections that we were vague about. But we still moved forward with our lives. We got married, we settled into the onsen and began making our lives.

“Until Minako, of course.” She laughs lightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “She knows more about soulmates than anyone I’ve ever known, but we never thought to ask her about it. She’d been traveling the world for years as a ballerina, no one thought of her degree in witchcraft much anymore. Until one day she was over drinking, and finally stomped over and said, ‘What are you waiting for! You’re morons for believing that you aren’t soulmates, and I’m a moron for letting you carry on like this for so long. Get to it.’ And then… she walked away.”

Yuuri smiles, even as he can’t say he’s anything more than just confused. “That doesn’t sound helpful.”

“Oh, but it was! We were so firm in our beliefs that we couldn’t be soulmates, that life just wasn’t fair, that we never considered the alternative.”

“Then…” Yuuri’s brow furrows. “How did it happen?”

She shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure! A few days later we each woke up with a dragon tattoo along our sides, and we knew. It was such a relief, and yet at the same time, it didn’t matter at all. It changes nothing other than the fact that you can see it.”

Except, Yuuri knows that it would change Vitya’s entire world. That Vitya, somehow, impossibly, thinks of himself as hard to love. And—

Well, maybe Yuuri isn’t one to judge on that front. But somehow Yuuri’s left himself open enough to keep finding these people that are so special to him, letting them walk in and building… something with them. Trust, friendship, partnership, something, anything.

And Vitya… Vitya deserves to be loved and _know_ that he’s loved. He deserves to be surrounded by it, to have so much of it that he doesn’t know what to do with it. And maybe it’s a little hard to feel it when he’s surrounded by a grumpy coach, and an angry teen, and a dragon that can’t vocalize just how good a person Vitya is.

So maybe… maybe Yuuri has to do it?

He’s still not sure how to do it. He hurt Victor so, so much throughout all of this. They may have started communicating, they may have established how they feel, but Vitya deserves more than that. Vitya shouldn’t just have to _hope_ that Yuuri stays with him. Vitya should _know_.

And… And there’s one other language that they share together, that Victor has used to reach out to him, but Yuuri couldn’t reach back with.

It wasn’t a good idea before. It was too vague, and Victor couldn’t know for sure how Yuuri meant something. But now? Now Vitya knows where Yuuri stands, even if he’s not sure how long it’ll last.

Yuuri just has to take an even larger leap of faith and try to convince Vitya that he’s so much more than he thinks he is. That Yuuri’s not going to leave or push him away ever again.

“You should probably talk to Minako about this, too, but…” His mom smiles, wide and bright. “Did that help at all?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says, smiling wide as he grabs his phone again, pulling up his chat with Phichit. “Thank you, Mom.”

She stands up, leaning to kiss him on the cheek before settling back down. “Of course, Yuuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for Yuuri to Koolaid man over to Victor  
(Jk… unless…?)  
I can't believe we only have twelve chapters left?! Holy cow?!?!
> 
> Anyhow! I'm still behind on a LOT and man, my environment is not the most conducive to being mentally healthy atm, but I wanted to get a chapter out for you guys because I know a LOT of other people are in the same boat. <3 Take care of yourselves out there, and stay as safe as you can <3 <3 <3
> 
> As always, [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) are all absolute badasses and amazing human beans, bless you. And thank you so, so much to everyone taking the time to read, and everyone leaving comments--those notification emails I get occassionally mean the _world_ to me!
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	31. Thirty-One

“Wait.” Phichit leans closer to the camera, and the effect is slightly horrifying on Yuuri’s phone screen. “You’re getting released from the hospital today? And you didn’t _start the conversation with this_?”

“Uh…” Yuuri smiles, but it’s more a nervous response than anything. “We just, you know, got distracted?”

“You think wooing Victor Nikiforov—which you’ve already done, by the way, have you _seen_ the sappy captions all over his Insta lately?—is more important than _you being better enough to get out from the hospital_?”

Yuuri glances around even though he _knows_ he’s alone, but just to be careful.

Mari was here this morning, but she had to help with the inn because there’s a game on tonight and there will be a small crowd. Vitya was _thrilled_ to have Yuuri all to himself after she’d left. Though he loves when any of Yuuri’s family is there too, so it’s not like he wouldn’t be thrilled otherwise. He was kind of upset that he couldn’t stay asleep long enough to be there when Yuuri was released, but Yuuri pointed out that this way they’ll get to wake up in the onsen together, and he was thrilled all over again.

It’s been really nice to have Vitya here, like this. Even if some days it’s still a little strange and surreal. Sometimes Yuuri can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Vitya _actually_ here, to hold his hand and feel the warmth there. But what they have now… it’s nice. It’s better than anything he’s had before. And Yuuri has some more work to do before they meet in person, anyway.

But for now, Yuuri’s been seeing the therapist that the hospital set him up with, and he’s been working with a physical therapist to get his strength back up. He needs to take it easier than he _wants_ to for a while, but that won’t stop him from getting back into shape. He’s not as bad as he could be, considering he’d been skating so much with Yurio before the accident, but he has a ways to go before he’s in shape like he was last season. Speaking of…

“I know, I’m sorry.” Yuuri raises his free hand in surrender. “I should have told you. But, um, you’ve been in touch with the triplets, right?”

Phichit rolls his eyes but lets the topic change slide. “Of _course_ I have. When have I ever let you down?”

“There was that one time I asked you to get chocolate ice cream from \ the store, and you got plain old _vanilla_.” Yuuri shrugs, biting back a grin.

Phichit gasps. “Katsuki Yuuri, that was _years_ ago. And vanilla isn’t _plain_, it’s literally called vanilla. Plain ice cream would be, like, milk flavored or something. Besides! Have you contacted Yakov yet?”

“Um.” Yuuri ducks his head. “Not yet.”

Phichit rolls his eyes again. “After arguing with Yurio for so long to get ahold of his cell number, you don’t even text Yakov? I’m ashamed of you, Yuuri.”

“I’m going to.” Yuuri glances away, toward the window. “I will. When I get home tonight, I’ll call him, or at least text. I just…”

“Yeah, I know, I’m just teasing you.” Phichit smiles at Yuuri when he looks back down at him. “Now that you’re awake and I _can_ tease you and all.”

Yuuri sticks out his tongue at him.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re doing better.” A distinctly _not_ Phichit’s voice sounds from the door.

Yuuri stiffens and nearly drops his phone. “M-Minako-sensei!”

“Oh, don’t be so formal.” Minako waves a hand, sitting down in one of the chairs. “I’m just here to drive you home. Again. They should call me the Katsuki Yuuri chauffeur. In which case, you owe me some tips.”

Yuuri flushes a little as Phichit snorts from the phone.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to it.” Phichit grins up at Yuuri. “Everything’s set up on my end for whenever. So call Yakov.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri sighs, long and dramatic. “I will. Thank you so much, Phichit. You’re amazing.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. You promised me a long soak in your hot springs and unlimited katsudon in return, and I intend to collect . Love you, bud.”

“Love you too.” Yuuri smiles as he hangs up the call.

The room goes quiet for a moment as Yuuri sets his phone aside and settles into a more comfortable position on his bed—well, as much as he can. He will _not_ miss this room or this bed, even if he has a lot of good memories of Vitya and his family here.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Minako finally comments, her expression blank as she stares at Yuuri.

Yuuri’s not entirely sure how to take that look, honestly. He swallows. “Um, yeah. I’m feeling better, too.”

Minako hums, still eyeing him.

Yuuri’s seen Minako since he woke up, of course, but this is the first time that she’s stopped by without anyone else here.

Which means… Yuuri finally has his chance.

“Minako?” Yuuri starts, freezing as Minako’s eyes narrow a little.

“Yes?” She folds her hands in front of her, and Yuuri’s still not sure _what_ to make of her right now, but he’s not giving up.

“Um. Can I ask you a question?” Yuuri clears his throat. “About soulmates?”

Her eyebrows rise a little, but her attention doesn’t waver. “Sure. I don’t know everything about magic, despite what the whole of Hasetsu seems to think, but shoot.”

“I just…” Yuuri takes a moment, centering his head and trying to form the exact, weird question that he has. “There’s been a lot of strange things happening, and I don’t know nearly as much about soulmates as I thought I did. Like, maybe this is the easiest question, but you know how sometimes there are people you’re really close to that you aren’t soulmates with—like you and me, and—” 

Minako laughs, short and high-pitched. “_Yuuri_. We _are_ soulmates.”

Yuuri stares at her for a moment. “What?”

“I had a timer on my wrist that ran out when Hiroko handed you to me to hold for the first time.” She taps her wrist, where the timer must have been. “I knew it was about to go out, but I barely even noticed because I hadn’t held an infant in so many years. I was worried I’d break you.”

Yuuri needs to go lie down. Except he mostly is lying down, which makes it kind of difficult to lie down again. “Oh.”

“I’m guessing this is about your Victor, though? The human one,” she adds on with a smile.

Yuuri frowns. “Mom told you?”

She snorts. “No, you know your mom keeps her mouth shut on these things. But I _did_ hear about how your Victor was overcome with magic in the ice rink and it nearly destroyed him.”

Yuuri’s eyes bug slightly. “It _what_?”

Minako purses her lips slightly. “I’ll explain in a minute, just finish your question.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to argue, but he knows that fighting Minako is like punching a brick wall. Instead, he tries to backtrack and remember what he was saying. Well, he wasn’t going to use names since Minako is _not_ one to keep her mouth shut, but now that she already knows… “Vitya doesn’t have any soulmates. Besides me.”

Minako blinks at him. “_None_?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “And I think that the only reason that he was mine to begin with was because we were so young…” Yuuri doesn’t remember too much of being with Vitya when he was little, but he remembers a little bit of school, and the rink, and… and they used to wake up together then, too, didn’t they? But that’s only what Yuuri had on his end—he still doesn’t remember a thing from Saint Petersburg. Everything’s so different now…

“And you talked to your mother about this, so you have an idea, don’t you?” She raises an eyebrow, stating it as more of an accusation than a question.

But Yuuri nods anyway.

Minako sighs, glancing away from Yuuri for a minute. “Poor kid. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve heard of a case like that. No wonder he lost control.”

“So you know what happened?” Yuuri leans forward a little. He’d been hoping for answers to a lot of questions, but he never dared hope to get an answer to the biggest one.

“I wasn’t there, but I can guess.” Minako gives a wry smile. “Everyone has innate magic in them. It gets funneled into soulmate presentations throughout their lives, with no conscious control from the host themselves. Some people, though, like your parents, get developmental blocks and hold the energy in. Whether it’s because they just can’t believe it, or it feels wrong, or something like that, they have the mental strength to just… shut it down, and hold it in.”

“So…” Yuuri takes in a deep breath. “Vitya could have other soulmates? Dozens of them, even?”

“Oh, he certainly has a few.” She snorts. “He lost control of himself and his emotions at the rink. For some reason, his guard just dropped and all the unreleased potential seeped out through your soulmate bond into the magic he has naturally. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some innate magic with how powerful that display was, too.”

“Yurio says that he’s related to Victor on the fae side,” Yuuri murmurs, even as his attention wanders.

Vitya has other soulmates. A _lot_ of them. Maybe even as many as he deserves.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Yuuri blinks, focusing back on Minako. “What?”

“About his other soulmates?” Minako raises an eyebrow.

“Oh.” Yuuri looks down at his hands. “Will he… I don’t know if he can believe it after so long. Or not blame himself. I don’t… I don’t know if I should.”

“Good, you’re actually thinking about it. You grew up a little.” Minako beams. “No, telling him before he’s ready is a recipe for disaster. Why did you think I waited so long to tell your parents?”

Yuuri gapes. “I’m not going to wait _years_ to tell Vitya.”

“Oh? Then what are you going to do to change his mind?”

A lot of things, he hopes. Many of them are just fanciful dreams, he knows that, but the one thing he’s working on now… “I actually, um. Speaking of that, I need your help with one more thing.”

Yuuri explains his plan as best he can—not that it’s too complicated, but there are a lot of moving parts. And if Minako’s eyebrows were high before, they practically shoot off her forehead now.

“You’re sure about this? I’ve known you since you were born and, well. This is… a lot, for you.” Minako’s brow finally lowers and furrows, a frown spreading across her face.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, firm and confident. He’s had a lot of time to think himself out of this, and and he’s made up his mind. Minako’s not going to be the thing that convinces him otherwise. “I’m absolutely sure.”

A smile spreads across Minako’s face as she catches the determination steeling his eyes. “All right then. I’ll help you out, but I won’t go easy on you.”

Yuuri snorts. “When have you ever gone easy on me?”

She smirks. “Good point.”

“Hello, Katsuki-san?” A woman pokes her head into the room, effectively ending his and Minako’s conversation, and starting the process of Yuuri being a free man again.

It’s funny how getting out of the hospital feels like the smallest thing on his plate right now.

The process isn’t as drawn out as he’d been fearing, but there’s plenty of talking, and paperwork, and other things that Yuuri doesn’t even want to keep track of until… that’s it. They pack up the few things that he’d had lying around the hospital room, and he’s free.

He’s walked outside a few times to keep his legs from getting too weak, but it’s totally different to go outside and know that he doesn’t have to go back in. They get into Minako’s car and it’s surreal, even though he knows it hasn’t been _that_ long.

“Ready?” Minako pulls out her keys, hesitating just before putting them into the ignition.

All Yuuri can do is nod, the goofiest grin on his face—but he doesn’t care.

He pulls his cell phone out as they pull away, his fingers shaking as he types.

Yuuri:

I’m free!

Vitya:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then there are so many heart emojis flooding Yuuri’s phone that he _almost_ regrets texting Vitya, but not really. Not at all.

Victor and Yuuri text back and forth for a bit while Minako’s driving, though Yuuri gets carsick easily so Vitya only gets to pester him with questions for so long.

And then he’s home. And, again, Minako takes him through the front door, but this time Yuuri’s rested, and happy, and smiling, and when Yuuri’s mom comes sprinting out to see him—like she didn’t just see him last night—she immediately engulfs him in a hug.

“Welcome home, Yuuri.” Her voice breaks as she presses her face into Yuuri’s shirt.

And all Yuuri can do is hug her back, his throat too clogged for words.

After he gets a hug from the rest of his family, Yuuri’s dragged through the onsen and all of the locals greet him like he’d just gone on a long vacation and they’re happy to have him back. All the attention does kind of make Yuuri want to hide, to crawl under his bed and go have some alone time without beeping machines and scratchy hospital sheets, but he doesn’t. He’ll be able to escape later. Right now he’s surrounded by so many people that care about him, and he doesn’t want to keep pushing them away.

He’s hustled through a soak in the onsen and two entire bowls of katsudon despite his mild protesting—he’s _trying_ to get back into shape, but that hospital food was_ terrible_—and by the end of it all, Yuuri’s reeling. It’s so much, too much. Like he’s celebrating his birthday, but twice as… everything.

Except Phichit was right earlier. There’s still one thing he has to do.

Yuuri crawls up to his room, allowing himself to faceplant and groan into his mattress for a solid minute before he forces himself up and grabs his phone, bringing up his conversation with Yurio.

It was easy to get Yurio in on his plan. Way easier than he expected, actually. But he was _so stubborn_ about giving up Yakov’s number. Maybe Yurio just hates Yakov, or he knows about the death threats that he threw at Yuuri when he first walked into the rink.

If Yuuri’s honest, those threats don’t make this whole process any easier.

But he’s not doing this for himself. It’s not about Yuuri being comfortable; he’s already made enough horrible choices that made things easier on him and terrible for others.

He can do this. 

For Vitya.

Yuuri taps the number that Yurio sent over, hitting the call button.

He spends the next three rings debating on whether it would be better or worse if Yakov picked up and he had to talk to him right now, or if he has to leave a voicemail and oh _no_ he didn’t rehearse or write down what he was going to say—but then a gruff voice spits something in Russian, and Yuuri almost puts down his phone and hangs up before he catches himself.

“H-hello, Coach Feltsman? Please don’t hang up, I know you don’t recognize my voice— Oh. You do? I, well— Y-yes sir. I have a good reason to call. You see…” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Out if everyone, Yakov will be able to help him the most. He could contact Celestino, but it wouldn’t be the same. No—this is important. Yuuri has to do this. “Everything’s fine, but it’s about Vitya. I need your help.”

__________

Time passes lazily after that. Spring has settled into Hasetsu, and even though Yuuri missed the cherry blossoms, there’s still plenty to show Vitya. He coos over how Makkachin would _love _the beach here, he gushes about how beautiful the onsen is and how wonderful the food looks, and oh, when he meets Vicchan.

Of course Vitya would be _thrilled_ that a dragon was named after him, and they instantly hit it off. Vicchan curls around Vitya for about an hour and won’t let him go, thrumming constantly as Vitya coos at him in Russian and scratches Vicchan exactly where Yuuri guides him too, around the ear. Yuuri’s never seen Vicchan take to a person so quickly, but maybe Yuuri had faintly smelled of Vitya when he came home, or it’s from watching all of those videos of Vitya while laying against Vicchan’s side…

Well, either way, Vicchan ends up spending the rest of the day with them because there’s just something about Vitya that he can’t get enough of. Luckily Ice Castle didn’t have any plans for the day, anyway.

“Of course we get along!” Vitya grins when Yuuri lets slip how relieved he is. “We’re both your Victors!”

Yuuri tries not to collapse into a blushing mess.

He doesn’t really succeed.

Yuuri also loves his time in Saint Petersburg. He spends a lot of his time at the rink, mostly curled up with Makkachin—or, well, he finds there’s a little trouble with Makka when he first gets released, because it’s almost like she can _smell_ Vicchan on him and shuns him for a couple of days. Vitya has no pity and laughs at him even as he holds Yuuri and strokes his hair while he lets his ego heal.

He and Yurio find a lot of time to talk while Vitya’s practicing, whispering about their plans. If Vitya notices—and he probably does—he doesn’t say anything about it, just smiles at them when he sees them together.

Their free afternoons in Saint Petersburg are so, so much better now, though. Sometimes Vitya will take them sightseeing, but mostly they’ll curl up on the couch and read, or watch TV. A game console shows up one day, and when Yuuri questions it, Vitya says that he’s had that old thing lying around forever, but Yuuri’s welcome to play with it, if he wants.

Even though “forever” can’t have been that long because it’s the most current generation of the console, only released a few months ago.

But Vitya doesn’t question it when Yuuri talks to Yurio, and he seems glad that Yuuri spends time with Yakov sometimes, so Yuuri decides to cut him some slack on this one.

It’s the times when Vitya’s not around that Yuuri’s the busiest. He’s at Minako’s studio, or the rink, or the gym, always working and striving and pushing himself harder and harder for something he’s not even sure he can achieve.

But eventually days turn into weeks, and he knows that things are picking up as Phichit and Yurio prepare for their next season, and he can’t put it off any longer.

He’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

When Vitya disappears one afternoon, Yuuri heads back to his room and unlocks his phone before taking a deep breath, and hitting the call button.

“Phichit? Yeah. I think it’s time. Tomorrow. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could Yuuri be up to, I wonder~?
> 
> My brain's fighting me tooth and nail, but I'm trying to stay okay over here--I hope that everything's okay in everyone else's neck of the woods. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Thank you so, so much to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being amazing!!! And thank _you_, readers, for trusting that we'd reach this point. :D I made a promise, and I intend to deliver!!!!!!
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	32. Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW:**
> 
> _ We start off this chapter with an anxiety attack! Hmu in the comments if you need more info!!!_

“Yuuri, breathe with me.” Phichit’s voice is crackly on the other end of the line, barely registering as Yuuri’s thoughts screech and grind against each other in his head.

Yuuri wants to listen to Phichit, he really does. But he can barely hear him, much less see him breathing. He’d been doing so _good_. Even his therapist had been proud of him. The last time he had an attack this bad was after Nationals, and that was a much, _much_ worse situation than this. He’s just… he’s weak. And he keeps letting everyone down, and he doesn’t even know _why_ he’s trying to do this when he’s just going to let everyone down _again_, especially Vitya.

He told Vitya while they were lying in bed this morning that he was going to surprise him tonight, or tomorrow, or whenever this whole thing is ready. And his whole face lit up, and Yuuri can still hear the way that Vitya purred, “I love surprises,” into his ear, and, and, and—

“Shit,” Phichit mutters, but Yuuri can’t make out his expression, and Yuuri didn’t want to worry him. After everything that Phichit’s done for him throughout the years, all Yuuri rewards his soulmate and best friend with is letting him deal with Yuuri constantly falling apart in every way imaginable.

“I-I’m sorry,” Yuuri wheezes out, blinking back tears, but it’s only a matter of time before they fall. He’s _too weak_. “I’m so s-sorry.”

“Yuuri, you haven’t done _anything_ wrong. Not a single thing.” Phichit’s voice is firm, but what he’s saying isn’t true. Yuuri’s screwed up plenty.

“I’m j-just a burden, and I—” And the tears finally escape, streaming down Yuuri’s cheeks. “I keep screwing everything up, and you keep having to deal with it, and—“

“Katsuki Yuuri,” Phichit snaps, cutting him off. “Do you remember what you did the first time I failed one of my courses?”

Yuuri swallows. Phichit is almost always cheerful and he can typically switch his focus quickly to his next attempt when he fails something—but what he and Yuuri have in common is that they’re both helpless perfectionists. And, well, Yuuri doesn’t know exactly what went on in Phichit’s head back then, but he was acting like he wasn’t going to get another chance, like that was the end of his academic career. Or maybe it was just that on top of having issues with his triple Salchow, and not qualifying for some events he’d been hoping to get into…

Well, whatever it was, Phichit just wasn’t himself. He barely talked, and he spent a lot of time in his room. And Yuuri let him wallow for a little while because he knows sometimes you need that, and then he dragged Phichit out of the apartment. As much as Yuuri felt awkward about going out dancing, he took Phichit to the place he loved dragging Yuuri to, his favorite. Another time when Phichit was going through a different rough patch Yuuri dragged him on a short road trip that went absolutely nowhere in the end, but they had fun being dumb tourists. And another he finally gave in to those pole dancing lessons—which apparently came back to haunt him in the end.

“I do,” Yuuri manages to get out. “But I—You have to do this so _much_. I’m just— It’s too much to ask of you. Of anyone. Vitya—“

“If you dare to imply that Victor Nikiforov is anything but a total goober for you. He’ll probably pass out cold on his ice rink to be able to pop up next to you and hug sense into you so tightly that you can’t breathe.” Phichit gives an exasperated huff.

Yuuri gives a hoarse laugh. “He would _not_.”

“He would! Especially if I texted him and told him what you were about to say.”

“You—no. No, you can’t, please don’t I-I can’t—“ Yuuri’s breathing picks up, and the world blurs again. This is all for Vitya, and Yuuri can’t spoil this for him because he’s weak. Yuuri should be able to do this much, he _should_ be able to—

“Oh, _shit, _crap, I can’t even tell him if I wanted, Yuuri!I don’t have his number! He follows me on Insta, but I’m pretty sure he just did that to like every single picture I ever posted of you so it’s not like we’re best buds or anything—” Phichit’s cut off by the creaky hinge of the doors in the Ice Castle’s locker room. “Oh thank _god_. Thanks for coming, Mama Katsuki.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” A hand falls on Yuuri’s shoulder and he chokes a little on a sob—he’s just _too much_ for all of his soulmates. They don’t deserve this. “Can I hug you?”

And Yuuri should say no, he needs to stop taking and taking, but he... he really, _really_ wants it. So he gives in and nods, even as the guilt sits heavy between his ribs.

His mom’s arms wrap around Yuuri, and he vaguely hears Phichit’s voice for a second before everything goes quiet, and Hiroko plucks the phone from his fingers, letting him reach up and clutch her arms where they wind around him.

“Oh, baby boy,” Hiroko murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

”I-I just…” Yuuri’s breaths come too fast, but he just, he can’t _stop_ them. “I-I’m not going to be able to do it well enough. And I-I know, it’s ridiculous, but what if this scares Vitya away for good? What if everyone’s so disappointed in me that they _leave_ and I— I—”

“I see,” Hiroko says, and she says it so firmly that Yuuri believes it, that she does get it. She shifts him slightly so that his ear is pressed to her chest and he can hear her heartbeat, and her slow, steady breathing. “And why do you think that?”

“I-I don’t… I know it’s not…” He knows that it doesn’t make sense with what he’s learned about the people who care about him, but it still eats away at him like something real, something physical, a constant gnawing in his gut that whispers, “What if, what if, _what if_?”

“Okay.” Hiroko hums, her fingers beginning to move in slow, comforting circles on his back—and Yuuri finally realizes that he’s on the locker room floor, which means _she’s_ on the locker room floor, and he really shouldn’t let his _mom_ sit on the locker room floor, but she starts talking again before he can say a word. “What did Minako say last time you practiced with her?”

“Um.” Yuuri blinks, trying to think back. It was just yesterday; he showed up at her place so late at night she looked like she was going to slam the door in his face. “She said… She said that I’d… I’d made it my own. That it was ready.” And she said it very enthusiastically, too enthusiastic for as late at night as it was, though Yuuri wasn’t in a place to judge in that situation.

“All right.” Hiroko’s voice softens a little. “How about your two Russians helping you? What did they say?”

Yuuri almost snorts; Yurio and Yakov are a lot of things, but they aren’t _his_. But, still. When he was last video chatting with Yakov, he gave a satisfied nod and almost _smiled_ before he said goodbye and good luck. And Yurio, well. To quote him, he said, “Victor better be all over you after this, or I’ll beat the shit out of him for you.” Which Yuuri decided to take as his weird sort of approval.

“I… I think… that they were happy with it.”

“And what about Phichit?” Hiroko prompts. “What did he say when you sent him that last video?”

Yuuri frowns, trying to remember. “Uh. I think it was a lot of keyboard smashing. But that was all training. It was rehearsing. What if I screw it up _now_?”

“Then you try again.”

“But what if I _never_ get it down?”

“Yuuri.” Hiroko’s voice sounds almost like she’s smiling. After a moment she takes Yuuri’s face, and tilts it up toward her own. “The only person who has any doubt that you can do this is you.”

“I know, but—”

“What would Vicchan say, if he were here?”

To be honest, Yuuri’s not sure what Vitya would say. He tends to be a little… blunt about how he approaches things, and Yuuri’s pretty sure that wouldn’t work here. “I don’t know,” Yuuri eventually admits.

“All right.” Hiroko nods. “What would he _want_, then?”

Vitya… Vitya was sad that Yuuri stopped skating. Vitya tried to encourage him to do what he wanted, regardless of what had happened in Sochi, regardless of how inconsistent Yuuri is. He’s not sure that Vitya really wants him to do _this_ exactly; he can only hope it’ll mean as much to him as it does to Yuuri. But…

“I think… he would want me to skate again,” Yuuri whispers, the words fragile.

“I think that Vicchan would want whatever _you_ wanted.” She smiles at him. “I think that if you chose to stop now, we would be sad that you walked away from something you cared so much about for so long, but the only person you’d be disappointing is _you_.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath, his eyes burning with tears, but it’s not the same kind of tears as before. “But I— I owe all of you _so much_.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, we all choose to support you, and _you_ don’t get to choose how much we love you.”

Yuuri knows this. He came to this conclusion himself. But it’s different now coming from his mother’s mouth while his brain wages war on him. “I just…”

“I know. And you will do everyone proud, and your Vicchan will love whatever you do regardless of what you think of it.”

Yuuri snorts, wiping away the few tears that escaped this time. “You haven’t even met him, yet.”

“No, but I see how happy he makes you. I can see how he’s changed you for the better, and that’s what counts, isn’t it?” She presses her hands against the side of his face lightly. “He wants what’s best for you, I know this. And right now, you have to do what you can live with. We all know you can do it, Yuuri. Our faith isn’t a question. What you do with it now is up to you.”

Yuuri looks down—or at least as much as he can while his mom holds him like this. He’s put so many hours and days into this. It feels a little silly for him to choose to do this of all things, since it’s just imitating something that’s already perfect, that’s already been mastered by someone else. It’s not original, or unique, or half of what he wants to give to Vitya.

But he chose it for a reason.

When he didn’t know how to get Vitya back, _this_ was what helped him see the way to reach out. He knows that they’re okay now, that they’re healing and moving forward. But he sees the lost look in Vitya’s eyes when he lets his mind wander too far, the hint of sadness in his eyes.

Yuuri wants to do this. He needs to do it for Vitya, and he wants to do it for himself.

“I… I’ll do it. I’m ready.”

Hiroko places her lips briefly to his forehead. “Not quite, I think you’ll want someone to touch up your makeup. But I’m happy for you, Yuuri. No matter what you chose, I would be happy for you.”

“Thank you, mom.” Yuuri smiles with shaky lips as she pulls away, then stands up and lifts them both to their feet—which is saying something, considering she’s so much shorter than him.

“Of course!” She gently pats his cheek. “Now, let me go get someone to help with your makeup.”

Yuuri gives a watery laugh as she walks toward the door. For his first competition, his mom had attempted to do his makeup and it had _not_ gone well. There are somehow still some videos out there, and Yuuri’s pretty sure that Phichit made a meme pitting Yuuri’s makeup from that competition against some of Georgi Popovich’s worst makeup choices—there were a lot to choose from with the latter.

The door creaks again and Yuuri turns, expecting Yuuko or Takeshi, but freezes when his eyes catch who’s there. “Mari?”

“The one and only.” She raises her eyebrows. “Here, sit down on the bench.” She guides him over and then kneels in front of him, rummaging through a bag he didn’t even know she was carrying. “And close your eyes.”

Yuuri does as he’s told, even if old instincts tell him not to. He let a much younger Mari do his makeup once, and while it wasn’t meme-worthy, it still wasn’t _great_.

Oh god. If Vitya really managed to track down every video of him out there, he’s seen _both_ of those looks.

“Don’t scrunch up your face so much,” Mari says as Yuuri feels the first swipe of a brush against his skin, and he tries to stay still.

Luckily they’re older now, and Yuuri likes to think that Mari wouldn’t make a clown of him for no reason. And their mom wouldn’t have sent her in if she suspected foul play might be on the table.

“Are you feeling better?” She moves in gentle strokes around his eyes, careful and precise.

“I… yeah.” Yuuri tries to move as little as he can, but it’s hard. At least he doesn’t feel like he had on the phone with Phichit. He’s not even sure what brought it on exactly; suddenly everything was just… too much. But it’s not that level of too much anymore. He’s calmer than he has in a long time in an empty, echoing kind of way. “I think so.”

“Good.” Mari’s voice is a little firmer now. “Because you’re here to kick ass and take names like the brother I know, aren’t you?”

Yuuri lets out a soft laugh. “Since when have I been _that_?”

“We’re both talking about the same kid that beat down his crippling anxiety because he loved dancing so much, right? The same one that faced down anxiety attacks every time he stepped onto the ice because nothing would hold him back? How about the one that traveled across the world to pursue that very same dream despite that whole situation being terrifying even to people without anxiety disorders? Oh, and the same one who decided to face down one of what he thinks is the biggest failures of his life just because he can’t stand the thought that his soulmate might not feel as loved as he wants him to?” She scoffs slightly. “No, he wouldn’t be one of the bravest fighters I know, would he?”

“Mari…” But really, what is Yuuri going to say to that?

Luckily, Mari’s never needed words to see right through him. Her hand falls on his shoulder and squeezes a little. “You’re done.”

Yuuri opens his eyes, blinking up at her for a second. “Thank you, Mari.”

“Anytime, bro.” She reaches up, like she wants to ruffle his hair, but thinks better of it last minute. “Are you ready?”

Yuuri takes a breath and stands up, always a little shocked at being so much taller than her in skates. It’s always a strange feeling “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She grins at him. “C’mon, then.”

They leave the locker room, entering the chill of the rink. The lighting’s a little odd—Yuuri didn’t even _know_ they had spotlights until today. The triplets wanted to man the thing but Takeshi got them under control, and he gives Yuuri a thumbs up as Yuuri walks in. For once the triplets don’t swarm him when he enters the rink since they’re too busy making sure the cameras are set up and manned, and Yuuri’s pretty sure he hears Phichit’s tinny voice coming from a phone somewhere near them. Minako smiles as he comes out, Hiroko standing next to her.

Yuuri gives them a smile in return as he walks by, taking off his skate guards and stepping out onto the ice. Before he can even set them down, Minako takes them from his hand, giving him a nod. Yuuri starts a little—he didn’t even realize that she’d followed him—but nods back before he takes a few laps around the rink. He warmed up before his breakdown with Phichit, and he’d only stepped off the ice to change into his costume and take a breather, so he doesn’t need long. The slide of his blades on the ice settles the last of the thoughts swirling in his head, bringing on a calm sort of numbness—but not in a bad way.

He stops by the boards again, this time to take off his jacket and hand it over.

Minako whistles. “It looks good on you.”

Yuuri flushes slightly. “Th-thanks.”

Yuuri has _no idea_ how Yakov got ahold of it, but apparently one of the earliest versions of this Victor’s outfit for this skate was blue. Yakov said that it had washed Vitya out too much and was a little too small to begin with, so he set it aside.

And then Yakov grabbed it and sent it off to Yuuri before he had even thought of what to wear. And Yuuri couldn’t protest much when it was already there in Japan and Minako had started taking it in and adjusting it as need be.

“All right.” Minako smiles. “Ready when you are.”

Yuuri doesn’t trust his voice, so he just nods and skates out to center ice.

They offered to play the music on the speakers while he skated, but he doesn’t need it at this point.

He knows Stammi Vicino better than any of his own programs.

For one long moment, he takes the starting position, takes a deep breath, and then he moves.

Yuuri looks toward the ceiling, and the emotions swell up within him.

When Yuuri skated this program in Detroit, he skated it as someone lost, someone reaching out for anyone who was willing to reach back and help him back up. He hadn’t seen then that he was surrounded by hands that wanted to help him, but he was the one that had to make that choice to climb out of his own head.

When Vitya had skated this at Worlds, he had skated it like someone who was found and then tossed aside, cast into a raging sea to try and find his way back to shore. He was a drowning man when he skated it, and it showed. It was just as beautiful as it was awful.

Yuuri skates it differently now. He’s not lost. He’s not abandoned. He’s found his home and it’s full of love, so much love, _too much_ love. He might not deserve it, but he has it, and he wants to share it.

When he reaches out, it’s not in desperation, but adoration. The lines he carves into the ice aren’t a struggle, they’re acceptance. Every time he jumps, it’s because he’s too light to stay on the ground, he’s too buoyed by the ones he loves giving him wings.

As he calls out with the aching, intimate lyrics of the song, it’s not a cry for help. It’s not with a brokenhearted need or a defeated grief. It’s an invitation. It’s him reaching out with open arms and telling the entire world that he’s here to accept the one person in his life that needs to know it, needs to know that he always has a home in Yuuri.

The entire world will know that this is Katsuki Yuuri calling out to Victor Nikiforov. Everyone will know that Katsuki Yuuri belongs to Victor Nikiforov, that he used every single last one of his resources to write this love letter and then give it to the word for all to see.

Because he’s _sure_.

It’s a letter for Vitya that thousands, if millions of people will see. It’s something that should terrify Yuuri, but it doesn’t right now.

He wants them to see it.

He wants Vitya to know Yuuri’s so absolutely sure in this that he doesn’t care who knows.

He wants Vitya to know that Yuuri’s proud of this. He’s proud of them and where they’re going.

The message of the skate may have changed, but _nothing_ else has. And when Yuuri soars into his quad flip, Yakov’s clipped, harsh critiques echo around his head, and he takes off—

And he lands it.

He can’t say he’s never practiced the quad flip before. He’s practiced it a lot, actually. But if he hadn’t had Yakov and Yurio drilling him on it every single free second he had, he knows he couldn’t have pulled it off.

This may be a love letter to Vitya, but it’s also a dedication to all of his soulmates, and everyone who cares about him.

He just hopes that they hear it, and they understand it.

Yuuri wraps his arms around himself, his chest heaving as he comes to a stop. 

He blinks. It’s over. He did it. He doesn’t even remember all of it, but he… he did it.

He gasps in a breath, and collapses onto the ice, a sob breaking through him as he cries again—but for an entirely different reason this time.

He just… He just loves them all _so much_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the delay, guys. My mom has the dreaded sickness (she had it last month, went back to work too early, and now it's back with a vengeance) and she's really not doing so well, so any good thoughts/vibes/prayers would be much appreciated. If you've followed me for a while you know that I do _not_ delay my chapters, much less three times in a few months, but god 2020 sucks. I'll do my best to keep as close to schedule as I can, but I can't promise anything depending on how things go. I really do understand how important it is for you guys to have an escape while the world is in a state like it is on top of everything else, and I do not take that lightly. I just feel like I'm losing my mind, honestly. But I'll get there. We'll get there.
> 
> Okay, regular A/N time: Because no one saw this coming. XD Fun fact, the original summary for this fic was:
> 
> _In which everything is the same, except there are soulmates and magic, and in the end, there’s no need for Yuuri to skate Stammi Vicino._
> 
> And then Yuuri (blessedly) ruined my plans pretty early on.
> 
> As always, bless [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for being my sanity squad! And thank you guys for reading!!!
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	33. Thirty-Three

Yuuri had told the triplets and Phichit that he doesn’t want to know when the video goes live. He knows Phichit alone works fast, so he can only imagine what it’s like with the small beings of chaos there to help him sort footage. They all have a lot of experience watching skating, and Phichit _loves_ taking videos and pictures, so he trusts that they’ll make it look amazing. Yuuri doesn’t want to hang onto his phone waiting for the message from them, and then the message from Vitya.

He’s starting to regret that now.

It’s late. Very late. But Yuuri’s still pacing his room.

The triplets are asleep, and he doesn’t know what Phichit’s schedule is like in Thailand, but he’s not going to ask because knowing is worse. Yuuri could just look it up and know. It would be easy to find because—and maybe it was a mistake, but—he handed over his social media to them for damage control, and for them to post and share and tag Vitya so there’s no mistaking what Yuuri’s intentions are.

Yuuri knows Vitya will react, somehow.

And that’s just the thing. He’s not staring at his phone waiting for a message from Phichit, but he’s definitely staring at it waiting for one from Vitya.

If he looks it up and sees that it’s live, that would mean Vitya hadn’t responded.

And Victor might not have seen it yet if it’s up. His phone battery could be dead, or Yuuri knows that some days Victor likes to keep his phone off because the outside world asks too much of him and he needs a break. But at this rate, Vitya’s going to show up in Japan before Yuuri even falls asleep.

Eventually, Yuuri forces himself to just lie down and close his eyes. He doesn’t have anything planned for tomorrow, he doesn’t _need_ to sleep. But he _wants_ to. He wants to see Vitya. He needs to. But he just… he can’t relax.

He lies in bed for a while, stiff as a board. He thinks time passes, but he’s not entirely sure because everything gets a little weird this late at night. Or is it early in the morning? Still.

When the light begins to seep through his window, he groans and throws the sheets off, grabbing his phone.

Still nothing. But… He frowns, trying to do math as quick as he can in his head. Vitya’s normally asleep by now. He goes to bed like clockwork more often than not. Screw all of Vitya’s gold medals, being able to sleep like _that_ is what Yuuri’s most jealous of.

Maybe Yuuri not showing up when he usually falls asleep threw Vitya off, though. It would throw Yuuri off, for sure. They’d been texting on and off when Yuuri wasn’t working on the ridiculous Stammi Vicino performance and all that. And Yuuri had said it was a stressful day, if a good one. But maybe that wasn’t enough, and now Vitya’s worried, and—

Yuuri slaps his hands to his cheeks. This is _not helping_.

He forces himself up from bed, shuffling downstairs like the zombie he is, and flops down at the family dining room table. He falls forward, his cheek smacking against the wood as he lies there, miserable.

Yeah, it’s his own fault, but he doesn’t have to _like_ it.

Eventually, Mari wanders in with some tea and sits down next to Yuuri, ruffling his hair. “I take it Vitya’s not here?”

Yuuri groans, pushing himself up and reaching for a cup of sweet, sweet caffeine. “What made you guess.”

“_Well_.” Either Mari missed the sarcastic tone, or she’s ignoring it on purpose, and it is _too early_ to deal with this. “Every time you wake up with him around, you don’t get out of bed before ten, at the very earliest. I mean, you’re an adult and you can do whatever you want to so long as you aren’t loud enough to disturb the guests—”

“No! No, no, no, no, _no_.” Yuuri almost drops his cup, waving his hands in front of him, nearly smacking Mari.

Her eyebrows raise as she takes a sip. “Would that really be so bad?”

Well… Yuuri’s never really wanted that kind of intimacy before. And he thinks that if he didn’t know Vitya so well, he wouldn’t even be considering it. He’s always felt like he falls somewhere under the demi umbrella with how he relates to people. But he remembers Vitya saying that he felt forced into relationships and situations, like it’s expected of him, and Yuuri knows that what they do now is more than enough for him, and hopefully for Vitya.

Every morning, Yuuri spends his time in a foggy, half-awake state, cuddled under the warmth of his covers, having murmured conversations about everything and nothing, running his hands through Vitya’s hair, over his back, sometimes across his chest when he’s feeling a little more daring. But there’s nothing expected in these touches, they’re just contact, just exploring and mapping a body that he wants to know and cares so much about. These mornings matter to Yuuri a lot more than anything else. He just… he wants Vitya however he’s willing to have Yuuri.

So, no, it wouldn’t be so bad if that’s what Vitya ever wanted. But Yuuri’s going to let Vitya initiate that, if he ever wants it. And if he never wants anything different than what they have right now, that’s okay.

“We haven’t even kissed yet,” is all Yuuri says as he picks up his tea and sips it. And honestly, it’s fine if they never do that, either. They haven’t given their relationship any sort of word or definition yet, and Yuuri… Well, he knows what he wants. But he wants Vitya to know where Yuuri stands before they move forward.

Which means he needs to see Yuuri’s video.

Which means Yuuri needs to wait even longer.

Yuuri lets out a long sigh before taking another sip.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have gotten up to… _other things_.”

“Mari!” Yuuri only barely resists the urge to faceplant on the table again. “We just— I just want to be around him, that’s enough, it doesn’t mean that I want to…”

“It doesn’t mean you want to _do_ him?”

“_Mari_.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you while you’re so cranky. You two can get up to whatever you want or be whatever you want, and we’ll be happy you’re happy, that’s all.” She ruffles his hair before turning back to the table, picking up her phone and scrolling. “Have you heard from him?”

“Um… no.” Yuuri looks down into his cup. “I don’t… Maybe I scared him away.”

Mari sighs. “This is the man that bought you medicine that costs almost as much as the onsen itself just to prove that he’s real. He doesn’t really have much ground to stand on.”

“I mean, you’re right.” Yuuri bites his lip for a second. “But… But what if—”

“_Yuuri_!”

Arms wrap around Yuuri from behind, and Yuuri stiffens for a fraction of a second before he melts.

“Vitya.” Yuuri turns and buries his face into Vitya’s chest, ignoring the snort from Mari. He knows it has to look absolutely ridiculous, his face squished into nothing, but he’s tired, and he was worried, and he doesn’t _care_. “Are you okay? It’s so late…”

“I’m fine, but are _you_ okay?” Vitya pushes Yuuri back a bit, taking his face and examining Yuuri with a frown. “You didn’t even show up at all.”

“I… It was a stressful night.” Yuuri leans into Vitya’s touch probably a little more than he has to, but it feels nice. It would be nicer if he could feel Vitya’s warmth, and Vitya could feel him without the strange numbness that comes from the astral projecting or whatever. But Yuuri’s beyond complaining too much about it; it’s just a nice little daydream for the eventual future. For now, there’s something a little more important to think about. “Um…”

“Yes?” Vitya smiles a little at him.

“Have you… Well, you remember the surprise I mentioned?”

“I do.” Vitya’s eyes practically sparkle, and Yuuri spends a moment just staring at him because _wow_, he’s pretty.

Yuuri gives himself a mental shake. “Well, um. Have you seen it?”

Vitya pauses for a moment, pressing his lips together as he looks at Yuuri, and Yuuri’s stomach plummets because _what does that mean_? “I… I’ve been a little busy, myself, actually. Speaking of… Would you mind if I gave you a surprise in return?”

Yuuri stiffens. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s tired and his mind jumps to Vitya’s last surprise and the weeks that he’s spent making that better. He doesn’t want to do that to Vitya ever again, not if he can help it.

Vitya’s hands begin to rub Yuuri’s back, a little too fast to be comforting. “You can say no—well, that might be a little hard now, I wasn’t planning on doing it like this, but I’ll make it work, you can say no, Yuuri. I know that last time— Well, it didn’t end well! I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, ever, just tell me—”

Yuuri reaches out and presses a finger to Vitya’s lips, not pressing hard enough to stop him from talking if he wanted to, but enough to make his rambling stutter and stop.

It’s not that Yuuri doesn’t want it. He knows Vitya well enough to know that he would never do anything to purposefully hurt Yuuri. Yuuri’s just… he’s afraid of himself and what he’ll do. He’s terrified of hurting Vitya, and the fear is still so fresh from yesterday and all that it entailed. Yuuri could think he’s doing the best thing for both of them and screw everything up so that there is _no_ repairing it—

But he’s made too many terrible choices based on fear, and he needs to do better now that he has the chance.

This will make Vitya happy, and besides, there’s nothing like Vicchan’s situation going on right now. Yuuri can’t think of anything Vitya might give him that he wouldn’t love—though, really, he can’t think of anything he’s mentioned or said that Vitya would think to give him in the first place. He must have said or done something that sparked the idea, but they’ve had so many conversations….

Well, that’s a worry that Yuuri _can_ deal with.

“I don’t mind, Vitya.” And when Yuuri finally gets the words out, he’s sure of them.

“Yuuri, you don’t have to—“

“I know.” Yuuri drops his hand and collapses back against Vitya, patting his chest. “I trust you. And I mean it, you know. I know I said it before, but I was _really bad_ at trusting back then, and I’ve been working on it. My therapist has helped a lot. They even said they were proud of me, you know.”

Vitya sucks in a breath, before letting out a shaky laugh. “I’m proud of you too, Yuuri. You seem to be a lot happier now.”

Yuuri nuzzles into him. “I am.”

“And a lot more in shape, too! Have you been skating lately, by chance?”

“Uh…” Yuuri’s brain scrambles, trying to come up with an explanation that might satisfy Vitya without spoiling everything. Unfortunately, all his brain seems capable of right now is sending his thoughts running around in circles frantically.

There’s a tap on his head, which would be hard for Vitya to do with his arms around him.

“Are you going to join us?” Mari’s voice most definitely has a smirk in it. “Or do you two need to get a room?”

Yuuri sighs and pushes himself up, not even glancing toward Mari. “I should eat. But I _mean_ it, Vitya.”

Victor’s brow is furrowed as he searches Yuuri’s face for a minute and…

And Yuuri wishes he could be upset, but he’s earned Vitya’s doubt, after everything.

“When my brother says something like that, he does mean it.” Mari sighs at them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I _do _know that. Don’t worry too much or you’ll end up like Yuuri.”

Victor lets out a surprised little snort and Yuuri glares at Mari, but he can’t be too angry with her when she makes Vitya laugh. So Yuuri just sits himself up and turns around.

To find his mother and father sitting across from him, grinning at the theatrics.

He flushes, and that flush only deepens as Vitya scoots up behind him and rests his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. He knows his family can see the way his shirt wrinkles with Vitya pressed against him like this, that they can put two and two together and it’s incredibly embarrassing, but he doesn’t want it to stop, so… he doesn’t tell Vitya to.

“I trust you, too,” Vitya murmurs in Yuuri’s ear, just as he puts some food into his mouth.

Yuuri blinks as he chews, then shakes his head and swallows. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know.” And the movement of Vitya’s cheek rising in a smile brushes against Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri smiles back, reaching down to put his hand on Vitya’s where it lays against his stomach—but he goes right through it.

There’s no pressure on him anywhere, anymore.

“Vitya?” Yuuri glances around, but he’s not there. Not solid, not… not _anything_. Yuuri can’t see him. “Vitya, where are you?”

“Doesn’t he wake up in the night, sometimes?” Yuuri’s dad says as he picks at his food.

“Sometimes…” Yuuri keeps glancing around, clutching his own shirt to keep his hands from wandering and trying to find him, like he can just _feel_ where Vitya is even though Yuuri knows he’s not there. “I guess. You’re probably right.”

“Vicchan is fine.” Hiroko nods. “I’m sure you would know if it were otherwise.”

Would Yuuri? Soulmate bonds are magic, but it’s not like his and Vitya’s bond is psychic… Yuuri turns his attention back to his meal, trying and failing not to worry. He’s tempted to text Vitya, but if he’s trying to fall back to sleep, that would wake him up, and—

He can’t sit here and think anymore.

He helps clear the dishes from the table, and then naturally falls into washing dishes from the family’s breakfast and then breakfast service after that, until—

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri nearly tumbles into the sink when he jumps, but then turns and throws his soapy arms around Vitya before he even thinks about it. “_Vitya_. Are you okay?”

“Of course I am.” Vitya wraps around him and relief hits Yuuri so hard that he feels like he could just lean against Vitya and sleep right here. “I just had to use the restroom, and it was hard falling back to sleep. Would you like help with the dishes?”

“You don’t have to, it’s not like you dirtied any of them.” Yuuri pulls back, looking at Vitya smiling at him. It looks like his smile’s real, but he also has slightly dark bags under his eyes. And… “Vitya, why are you wearing clothes?”

“Oh.” Vitya glances down at himself. “I went out right before I fell asleep, and I was too tired to change.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows, but his foggy brain can’t find a good question to follow that up with. Yuuri’s done the same thing, so he can’t judge, but… it seems very not-Vitya-like.

“Dishes?” Vitya prompts, turning Yuuri around and back toward the large sink.

And, well, Yuuri can bother Vitya about this later, when they’re both less tired.

Except Vitya’s not getting much rest at all. For some reason, Vitya keeps disappearing throughout the day. He’ll come in and stay anywhere between five minutes and an hour. And Yuuri’s had restless nights like that. Between anxiety and traveling, Yuuri’s had a lot of weird sleep. But Vitya’s not like that, usually. And every time that Yuuri tries to ask him about it, he deflects, changes the subject, and comes up with excuse after excuse.

Yuuri knows something’s most definitely going on, and he feels like he should _know_ what’s happening. It’s niggling right on the tip of his tongue, he just can’t _grasp_ it.

By the time that Vitya seems to actually wake up, it’s pretty late—far later than is normal, Vitya doesn’t even sleep in nearly as much as Yuuri on his rest days and… It just doesn’t make _sense_. And he knows there has to be an obvious answer if he could _think_ about it. But he’s tired, and he’s stressed enough that he’s not going to be able to sleep _again_.

So he does the only thing he can think to do and grabs his skates and begins the walk to the Ice Castle.

He could jog, but he’s not in any hurry and he doesn’t really need to warm up. It’s not like he’s going to skate Stammi Vicino again, he’s way too nervous. Just some figures. Enough to lull his mind into a quiet enough state that maybe he can fall asleep when he gets home.

He sighs as he gets the key and opens the back door of the Ice Castle. He could just go right onto the ice, but honestly… maybe he’ll just curl up with Vicchan for a bit before. And if he falls asleep there, well. He has his phone, so he’ll be able to check if Vitya’s okay.

He opens the door into Vicchan’s cave, and…

Something’s wrong.

First off, there’s a loud thrumming in the air, like Vicchan is _very_ happy, the way he gets after lots and lots of cuddles, but no one would be cuddling Vicchan this late at night.

Second off, the dimly lit curled up ball of Vicchan is way too big. Like, two or three times as big.

Third off, the giant ball of not-right Vicchan is coming closer, and the door just shuts behind Yuuri and he barely gets the chance to reach behind him before—

“_Oof_!” Yuuri gets slammed back against the wall as the dragon above him hums and coos and he _knows_ that voice.

But it’s not Vicchan.

“M-Makkachin?”

She gives out a loud, almost yip-like chirp before she begins to lick him with her scratchy, warm tongue. Yuuri laughs as she tickles him—at least until there’s a tingling itch behind his ear, the opposite ear than the one that has Vicchan’s soulmate mark behind it, and he can’t help but gasp.

So Makkachin _is_ his soulmate.

And if Makkachin’s here…

Yuuri pushes Makkachin off of him, pausing just barely to pet her in apology and to give Vicchan a scratch so he hopefully doesn’t get too jealous, before he’s scrambling back out the door and out of the building and _running_.

It can’t be.

But it makes sense.

Yuuri even thought about how he doesn’t sleep well when he travels, especially when the flight is bumpy, and attendants want to know if he needs this or that, and—

Vitya said he wanted to surprise Yuuri.

He didn’t even really answer if he saw Yuuri’s video or not, and Yuuri _knows_ that Phichit and the triplets have to have uploaded it by now.

And Yuuri, he—

He doesn’t know what to think.

He trips and slides into the onsen, nearly barreling into Mari where she leans against the wall of the entrance, raising an eyebrow at him.

She shouldn’t be up at this hour, she’s typically sleeping now, so…

But Mari doesn’t say a word, she just jabs a thumb toward the onsen before turning and heading back to the family quarters.

Yuuri doesn’t hesitate for a moment, scrambling through the halls and corridors and baths until he stumbles outside and—

Someone’s in the onsen.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, but he knows who it is. Of course he knows. Even if it seems like it should be impossible, Yuuri would recognize this man anywhere.

Vitya stands up with a bit of a flourish, dramatic as always, and holds out his arms. “Yuuri! Starting today, I’m here to be your Vitya.”

And he says it so carefully and so precisely that it has to have been practiced. He’s probably been going over it in his head all day, knowing Vitya. This cheesy, ridiculous line that’s so _him_ that Yuuri has to take a moment to process it.

“M-my Vitya?” Yuuri squeaks out, unsettled. Because it is _Vitya_ here just as Yuuri’s known him for months, but it’s also _not_.

The last time Yuuri’s _actually_ seen Victor Nikiforov was at Sochi. All he remembers is the commemorative photo, but Yuuri’s seen the pictures that Vitya has in a special folder in his phone, and he… he wants…

“Only if you’ll be my Yuuri.” Vitya gives the most ridiculous wink that Yuuri’s ever seen, and a smile that’s only slightly strained, slightly nervous.

Yuuri can only stare. He’s daydreamed about _actually_ being around Vitya, of course he has, but he’s never let himself imagine that it might actually happen. It’s a nice thought, but impossible. Vitya has training and responsibilities, and Yuuri doesn’t have the funds to go flying around the world. Yuuri wanted it, but it wasn’t going to happen for a long time

Despite the weather being mildly warm, Yuuri can’t feel anything. He’s gone numb.

“Well…” Vitya swallows, wading across the pool and coming closer to Yuuri. “Of course I only mean that if you want it. I don’t mean to assume anything, only that I’ve… Well, we’ve—”

Yuuri stumbles forward, his steps cutting Vitya off as he looks up at Yuuri with wide eyes. Yuuri should say something, but he can’t even think of words; they’re slowly rising to the surface but they’re just out of grasp, trapped in the numbness of his limbs.

Before he can think about it, he kneels down on the rocks at the edge of the onsen, his knees not picking up the pain as he reaches out with shaking hands and then… it’s not numb. His fingers brush along Vitya’s cheeks and jaw and it’s _warm_. He’s warm and he’s soft and he’s _here._ The heat seeps into Yuuri’s skin, sinking through his palms and spilling down his arms until it settles and wells in his chest, overflowing and filling him from his head to his toes. Vitya’s pulse flutters like a bird beneath his touch, and it’s so new and wonderful, and Yuuri could just sit here and bask in it for hours. But Vitya doesn’t deserve to be kept nervous and waiting like this. Not when he’s _here_.

Slowly, Yuuri leans forward and kisses Vitya’s forehead, keeping his lips there as he breathes out his words. “My Vitya.” Yuuri reaches up and wraps his hand around the back of Vitya’s neck, his fingers sliding through the fine hairs there. “My amazing, perfect Vitya. I’ve been yours since we first met, years and years ago. Of _course_ I’m your Yuuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are they Victuuri without grand, dramatic gestures of love that both of them think aren’t even remotely enough to encapsulate their love? No. They are not.
> 
> And a quick life update! My mom is feeling a _little_ bit better, enough so that I'm not terrified I won't hear from her in the morning. Unfortunately her job is making her go back to work before she's totally better, so any good vibes/prayers/whatever you have to offer would mean a LOT <3 On a positive note! [I HAVE NEW DOGGO!](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1256364061161328642) I don't live at home rn, but I'm actually going to head out and hang with her for a bit today!!! She's such a sweetie <3
> 
> As always, a bajillion thank yous to the amazin [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for helping beta/alpha this mess!!! And thank YOU guys for being so amazing and supportive! I've cried so many good, cathartic tears reading your comments (which I promise I'll catch up on soon, it's just been A Week!), thank you. <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	34. Thirty-Four

“So you’ve seen the video.”

Yuuri’s not sure how much time has passed, and honestly, he can’t even remember everything that led them to this point. But they’ve made it from the onsen and into Yuuri’s bed. They didn’t even talk about it; it was just a given that they had to be in the same bed and wrapped around each other, the exhaustion making their limbs heavy.

Yuuri knows that Vitya couldn’t have soaked in the onsen very long before he got there, even if Vitya somehow slipped in right as Yuuri left for the rink, and he knows how nice the heat is after a long flight, but he can’t regret this. Not the warmth of them lying together, not the gentle, heated breaths that Vitya lets out slower and slower against Yuuri’s chest, or how he clutches Yuuri, firm and very real and very there.

It’s so strange; they’ve fallen asleep together like this more times than Yuuri can count, but this is so different and yet so similar, that Yuuri can’t really put words to it. Not when he hasn’t slept in over a day.

“I did,” Vitya breathes, tilting his face up to look at Yuuri, and his eyes are so wide and brilliant that it’s all Yuuri can do to just stare. “_Yuuri_. I’ve never… it’s been _so long_ since I’ve seen skating that’s made me _feel_ like that. All of your skating is gorgeous, always beautiful and breathtaking, but…”

Vitya reaches up and gently runs his fingers along Yuuri’s jaw. “I was at the rink when I first saw it. Yurio shoved it in my face, and he forgot to turn on the volume, but I _heard_ it, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows as his hands move slowly and lazily against Vitya’s back. It _should_ be weird to sleep with someone who’s just in his underwear, but honestly, Yuuri doesn’t know anything different when it comes to Vitya and he doesn’t care to. It’s been a while since Yuuri got to fall asleep with Vitya like this, since… right before he woke up from the coma. So long.

Yuuri shakes his head, getting his thoughts back on track. “What did you hear?”

“The music. The instruments, the rhythm, the lyrics. Every rise and fall, you just… you _made_ it.” Vitya’s eyes are still so wide, like he’s looking at something infinitely precious, and not just Yuuri. “I’ve never thought about Stammi Vicino in the same tone as how you skated it, but you took it, and you made it your own, and…” Vitya clears his throat. “It was so, so lovely.”

“So… You don’t mind? You like it?” Yuuri knows it’s a silly question to ask, but he also knows that if he doesn’t ask, it’ll sit in the back of his mind and grow and grow until it consumes him and… Well, he’d rather not.

Vitya huffs out a laugh, and this close, Yuuri could count the wrinkles of Vitya’s laugh lines around his eyes. “Why else do you think I jumped on the next plane to Japan?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri hums, his brain taking a moment to process the words, and then he frowns. “That must have cost so much.”

“Yuuri.” Vitya’s joy fades just a little, his gaze becoming harder. “I have spent my entire life accumulating money I don’t need from sponsorships, and spending hardly any of it because I didn’t care to buy anything. I invested it, I was careful to be smart about it, but it was habit as opposed to anything else. There was nothing that I could buy that would make me happy, and I knew it. But this… this makes me happy.”

Yuuri squirms a little inside—that’s still _so much money_ to just spend with hardly a thought—but he pushes the feeling aside and instead moves so that he can hold Vitya a little tighter. He’d rather not think about how unhappy Vitya had been for so long. Yuuri promised to make Vitya feel loved, and he’s going to.

“Okay,” Yuuri murmurs, eyes drooping a little. “It’s nice to see you in person. Really nice.”

Vitya beams. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Though, of course you’re as naked as ever.” Yuuri huffs a laugh.

“I can’t fall asleep in clothes!” Vitya whines softly, both of them distantly aware of Yuuri’s family not too far from them. “I tried to wear clothes after the first day! I just couldn’t!”

“Oh, so you weren’t trying to seduce me?” Yuuri tries to pout, imitating all the times that Vitya’s done it to him.

“_Yuuri_!” Vitya shifts up a bit, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s nose. “Do you _want_ me to seduce you?”

Yuuri’s cheeks warm, despite the fact that he’s the one that started this. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“I suppose with all the work you put into luring me here with Stammi Vicino, I can do my best. I’ve never had to seduce anyone before. It’s a little exciting.” Vitya’s smile never so much as wavers, and Yuuri honestly can’t say he’s ever seen him so happy before. “How many people were involved in that, by the way?”

“Um…” Yuuri’s thoughts trail off for a moment as Vitya’s fingers wander off to the sides of his face and begin playing with his hair and oh, that feels _good_. “Well, Yuuko and Takeshi helped set up the rink. Phichit and the triplets took the video and edited it. Yurio and Minako helped me get down some of the jumps and choreography, and then… I might have had Yakov help out, a little. He sent me the costume.” Yuuri sighs. “I probably owe him so much in coaching fees.”

Vitya gasps. “_Yakov_ was involved? Now I feel a little bad about not telling him I was coming to Japan.”

“_What?”_ Yuuri squeaks. “Did you tell _anyone _where you were going?”

“Well, I had to get Yurio’s help to bring Makkachin over—he had a few favors that our related family owes him, and Yurio gets his magic from somewhere, you know. She’s at the rink, by the way.”

“I… know.” Yuuri hesitates a moment, remembering the soulmate mark on the ear opposite Vicchan’s. Yuuri has a mark with Makkachin before even Vitya does, and… It’s not that Yuuri doesn’t want to tell him, he just doesn’t want to _hurt_ him. Vitya and Makkachin have to be soulmates, but obviously Vitya doesn’t believe that. Yuuri will think about this more when he’s had enough sleep to make a smart decision. “I went to go do some figures at the rink since I was a little nervous about _someone_ acting really weird. She was very happy to see me.”

“She really does love you,” Vitya agrees, no hesitation.

Yuuri hesitates for a second, almost telling him, but decides against it. Minako might be able to help him with this. This is more important than Yuuri can afford to mess up. “Is that legal? Aren’t there quarantines and all sorts of checks involved with transporting animals?”

“It’s… mostly legal.”

Yuuri huffs a laugh. “You’re a terrible liar. If I’d actually gotten rest last night, I would have known what you were up to in a second.”

“But you _didn’t_, and I got to surprise you back.” Vitya preens, his fingers still moving and distracting Yuuri. “It’s a good surprise, isn’t it?”

“The best surprise,” Yuuri murmurs, finally unable to keep his eyes open. And it’s so, so nice to close his eyes and to just feel Vitya, to be surrounded by his warmth, and his pulse and his breathing.

“I like your hair long, like this,” Vitya murmurs, his hands slowing but still running through Yuuri’s hair.

“Oh.” Yuuri frowns. “I kept meaning to cut it… and then you happened, and it was very distracting.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I know I’m a lot.”

Yuuri scowls, then tightens his arms and pulls Vitya to his chest. “It was the _best_ distraction. And if you like my hair like this, I do, too. It’s nice being able to pull it back.” Honestly, Yuuri doesn’t care much about his hair, so long as it doesn’t get in the way of skating. 

Vitya hesitates a moment before he relaxes in Yuuri’s grip, holding Yuuri just as tight. “I… I remember how to handle long hair, if you ever need help dealing with it.”

Oh, Vitya’s hair used to be so pretty when he was younger. There was so much speculation about why Vitya cut it years ago and Yuuri ate up every single theory, but it doesn’t really matter much when Yuuri has Vitya here, like this. “That sounds really nice. Maybe… tomorrow.”

“Yes, not right now.” Vitya chuckles. “Sleep, Yuuri. We’ll both be here in the morning.”

Yuuri’s pretty sure he says something in response, but he’s not exactly sure what it is even as the words come from his mouth.

With the comfort and promise that Vitya’s with him and _nothing_ can take him away, Yuuri slips off into sleep

* * *

“_Yuuri_.”

Yuuri blinks a couple of times, his eyes trying and failing to focus. All he knows is that it may be bright out, but it’s still way, _way_ too early. “No.”

There’s laughing. “But Yuuri, I’m hungry.”

Yuuri frowns at that. Vitya’s not hungry. He can’t be hungry. He doesn’t have a stomach like—

Oh.

Yuuri frowns up at Vitya. “You’re the one who was eating pathetic breakfasts until I made you eat.”

Vitya frowns back at him. “And now I get hungry in the mornings and it’s all your fault.”

Yuuri grumbles, burrowing deeper into his pillow—oh. That’s not a pillow.

Vitya’s arms tighten around him. “I’d go down myself, but I… I haven’t _actually_ met your family yet.”

Vitya’s voice wavers enough that even Yuuri’s inner grump gives in, tilting his head up so his chin rests on Vitya’s chest and Yuuri can look up at him. “They love you, you know.”

“They haven’t met me yet,” Vitya says with enough false cheer that it wakes Yuuri up even more.

Yuuri squints through the morning fog. “They’ve known of you since the very first time we met, and they’ve never, ever disliked you.”

“Even when you came home especially upset because I ruined everything?” Vitya’s smile is still on his face, but it seems like it’s instinct more than anything else. “What about when I landed you in the hospital, or—”

“If they didn’t want you around, you’d know.” Yuuri scowls at Vitya for a moment before pushing up on his hand and brushing his fingers through his messy bedhead. He can reassure Vitya as much as he wants, but it won’t mean anything until he proves it. “Fine, let’s go eat breakfast.”

Vitya gives him a shaky smile as the both of them shift upright, and Yuuri takes the time to lace their hands together and give a quick squeeze before they get up and get ready for the day.

It’s strange for Vitya to need to do the same things Yuuri needs to do. He needs to use the bathroom, he needs to put clothes on, he needs time and space to sort through his ridiculous luggage—he’s _here_ and he _needs_ and it’s nice to be able to help him.

But even Vitya’s extensive skin-care routine—apparently he used his entire carry-on for that alone, protesting Yuuri’s criticism by squawking, “I can handle losing my clothes, but my skin is irreplaceable, Yuuri!”—can only buy him so much time before Yuuri takes Vitya’s hand in his again as he drags him downstairs.

Yuuri’s usually the anxious one, but the tables have turned, and this time it’s Vitya. He grips Yuuri’s hand so tightly, trembling just slightly, and Yuuri knows that there’s not much _he_ can do to make this better, but he knows what should help.

After all, if Yuuri’s sure of anything in his life, it’s his family’s ability to love anyone that Yuuri loves.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” His mom chirps as they walk into the family dining area. “Good morning, Vicchan!”

“G’morning, Mom,” Yuuri says as he pulls Vitya in.

“Wow, seeing you before ten two days in a row—oh!” Mari’s eyebrows fly up toward the line of her hair.

Vitya’s hand is no longer in Yuuri’s and by the time that Yuuri’s glanced behind him, Vitya’s knelt on the ground, his forehead pressed to the floor.

“Thank you so much for your kindness,” Vitya says, and if he didn’t know Vitya as well as he did, Yuuri wouldn’t notice the slight shaking in his voice, but he _does_. “I appreciate it, even if I’ve done nothing to earn it. I wanted to have you all together before I… I apologized. It was me that got Yuuri put into the hospital. I’ve hurt Yuuri many times, and therefore I’ve hurt you, and I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

For a second, everything’s quiet. Yuuri can’t think of a single word to say or a single thing to do. Because this is so over the top, almost ridiculous, way too much—but it’s _not _that for Vitya.

“Vicchan, sit up.” Yuuri’s mom smiles at him as Vitya raises his head slowly, looking at her with wary eyes. “And Yuuri, sit down.”

Yuuri’s had too many years of knowing his mom to ever consider questioning her, so he sits down before he can consider doing anything else. 

“I’m happy you brought this up, because I wanted _you_ two together to talk as well.” Hiroko sips her tea, still smiling at them.

But Yuuri’s stomach drops. He knows that she could never hate Vitya, but that’s the tone that she used that one time Yuuri played that prank on Mari with the green-dying shampoo in the onsen, and he’s never forgotten it.

It doesn’t help that Mari herself is grinning at them, just like that time.

“Now.” His mom sets her tea down. “You two need to stop keeping all of this and owning it all by yourselves.”

“But I—” Vitya starts.

“Wait, but—” Yuuri manages to get out.

“No,” Hiroko says gently, but it’s enough to shut the both of them up. “Yuuri, if you had told us what was going on, I doubt that things would have escalated to what happened at the ice rink. Vicchan, I know what happened from Minako and from Yuuri, and I know that you should have talked about it as well.”

Vitya and Yuuri exchange a look, uncomfortable, but… she isn’t _wrong_, exactly. Yuuri had Mari who kind of knew what was going on, but if Yuuri had been as open about Vitya as he had been at the rink in Saint Petersburg, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten to the point that they did.

If Vitya had talked about how he felt instead of drinking, instead of holding it all back, the entire situation after that wouldn’t have happened, probably.

It’s not as simple as it seems to be in his mom’s head, but she’s not exactly _wrong_.

“We’re your family. We want to help you. We love you, both of you. You make each other happy, and that’s the most I’ve ever asked for. Except now I will ask a little more, because I think none of us would like to ever be in that situation again. Are we agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

“Good!” Hiroko beams. “Then I’ve been waiting to say this because I haven’t been able to see you, but: welcome to the family, Vicchan.”

“I…” Vitya swallows. “Don’t feel like you have to…”

“We don’t,” Yuuri’s father adds in, his smile a little more of an entertained smirk than the soft expression of his wife. “You’ve been a part of the family for a long time, Vicchan. The only way you won’t be a part of the Katsuki household is if you yourself decide to leave.”

“Don’t be as ridiculous as Yuuri,” Mari adds on. “We already have one of him, we don’t need two.”

“_Mari_,” Yuuri hisses.

Mari shrugs and gives a half-smile. “What? You know it’s true.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, and then turns back to Vitya—

_Oh_.

Vitya hasn’t moved, his eyes staring straight forward but a little unfocused, as tears slide down his face. He doesn’t sob, or choke, almost like he doesn’t even know that it’s happening.

Yuuri reaches out tentatively, placing his hand on Vitya’s arm, making him jump and almost making Yuuri jump, but he catches himself. “Vitya, are you okay?”

“I…” Vitya blinks rapidly, like he can’t understand why his vision’s blurry. “I’m… I…”

Yuuri tightens his grip, leaning in closer so that he can whisper—even if his family probably can still hear. “Vitya, it’s okay. My mom’s not angry at you, you’d know if she were really angry at you. Everything’s okay.”

“I-I know.” Vitya hiccups a bit, then reaches up to his face, toward the tears—

But Mari reaches out with a napkin and that freezes Vitya for just a second before he takes it, and stares at the napkin for a moment.

Mari glances around Vitya to catch Yuuri’s eye, obviously baffled, but Yuuri… Yuuri might not quite understand, but he _thinks_ he gets it.

Vitya hasn’t had a family, not really. His mom left him, and Yakov obviously loves him, but he’s the coach of many skaters—he can’t be an attentive father to them all. Not to mention his love is much, _much_ different than what the Katsukis offer.

Hiroko may have scolded them a bit, but it was because she cares. She cares deeply enough to want Vitya to be happy and…

Has he had that before?

Vitya stares at the napkin as the tears keep falling and a small whine escapes his throat.

“Vitya, can I hug you?” Yuuri murmurs.

Vitya just nods, jerky but obviously a nod.

Yuuri wraps his arms around Vitya, and Yuuri just hopes that he can feel it, how very loved he is here, even if it hurts a bit. Because he deserves to be loved. More than anything, he deserves it.

It only takes a minute or two before Vitya begins to breathe a little more evenly, his quiet sobs turning to sniffles, and he reluctantly uses the napkin.

“I-I apologize,” Vitya says as he sits up straight, their hands still linked together tightly. “I’m n-not sure what came over me.”

“Vicchan, no apologies needed.” Yuuri’s mom beams. “Are you all right?”

“I…” Vitya trails off for a moment before he smiles. It’s small, and a little broken, but it’s soft and real. “Yes. I’m all right.”

“Good! But you should eat.” Hiroko nods, reaching over and pushing the food closer to him. “You had a long flight to get here.”

Vitya follows Hiroko’s orders, his hands a little shaky as the quiet stretches for a moment before Mari asks about what needs to get done in the onsen today, and the regular breakfast conversation picks up.

Yuuri begins to pick at his own breakfast next to Vitya and, well, if it’s a little difficult to eat with one hand, he doesn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone’s like “Why’s Yuuri seeing a therapist if he’s still so bad about the blame game” 1. Therapy takes a _lot_ of time and effort, Yuuri’s been going for maybe a few weeks, and 2. Yuuri also has a _lot_ to work on askjdnaskjdn poor boy
> 
> (If anyone’s worried, Vitya started talking to someone, too! Yakov finally convinced him to, and he video chats with his therapist. It’ll get mentioned in Jello canon eventually, but I know some people out there are really worry about these boys.)
> 
> As always, bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi/pseuds/Zuzuhi) for helping me with the brital work of betaing/alphaing. <3 And thank you guys so, so much for sticking through this fic with me! I seriously can't tell you how much it means, especially right now!!!
> 
> (Also, update! Mom's still at work, and still a little rough, but status quo rough, hopefully. Gracie is a big sweetheart and needs a lot of training/exposure because of where she came from, but she's so, so good about it!!! <3)
> 
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	35. Thirty-Five

“So you just have the three bags, then?” Mari nudges Vitya with her shoulder to stop him from staring at Yuuri on his other side. 

For a moment Yuuri had worried this would be too much for Vitya, that maybe they should have had some more time alone before Yuuri brought Vitya down to see the family. After all of that, Yuuri wouldn’t blame Vitya if he needed some time away from everything; maybe they could head to the ice rink, or the beach. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. In fact, it’s like Vitya hasn’t been able to stop smiling since he stopped crying.

“Oh!” Vitya turns his heart-shaped smile to Mari, laughing a little. “No, of course not. My things should be coming very soon.”

Yuuri doesn’t need to see Mari to know she has an eyebrow raised. “How many things would that be?”

Vitya blinks, like the answer should be obvious. “Everything, of course!”

Yuuri proceeds to choke on his tea.

“Okay, what does _everything_ mean? You can’t have packed up every single thing that you own.” Mari snorts as Vitya pats Yuuri on the back.

“Well, almost. It’s everything from my apartment! At least everything I think I might need. It’s been a while since I’ve been on vacation, so I decided to have everything packed and sent here.”

“That…” Yuuri finally manages to choke out. “That’s… a _lot_.”

“Is it?” Vitya looks down at him. “I figured I’d be staying here longer than a competition, and that means I’d need my things.”

Yuuri can’t exactly say he’s ever been on much of a proper vacation. His family running a business like this always meant that there wasn’t the time for vacations. He’s spent weekends at Yuuko’s place, but that was about it. And though Yuuri did move across the world, he didn’t bring _everything_ with him when he went. Yuuri almost wants to ask if Vitya’s joking, but he knows him too well at this point.

Vitya’s smile fades a little as Yuuri gapes at him. “Is that… That’s a little much, isn’t it? I just wasn’t sure, you see. But I’m sure I can call and have them send everything back, it should be no problem, don’t worry about it—”

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s fine. I think we have the old banquet room that we can clear out, right?”

Yuuri glances at his parents, and they both nod, their focus more on the food than the shenanigans going on around them. As if Vitya shipping his entire life here is no big deal.

“Besides.” Yuuri clutches their still-clasped hands a little tighter. “I like the idea of having all of your things here. Your bed is much more comfortable than mine.”

Mari, predictably, cackles at that comment and Yuuri flushes, but when he sees the slight flush across the bridge of Vitya’s nose, Yuuri doesn’t really mind. He means it, anyway—a twin bed isn’t big enough for two grown men.

“All right.” Vitya’s smile goes soft. “If you’re sure.”

“Yes,” Yuuri says with no hesitation, turning back to his food. “Now you should eat before it goes cold.”

Vitya hums his agreement, turning back to his food as Mari tries to contain her snickering.

It doesn’t matter if it’s too much, because Yuuri can never get enough of Vitya. Besides, Vitya should be comfortable while he’s staying here. Especially since he’s going to be here for… a while?

Yuuri hesitates, food halfway to his mouth. How long _is _Vitya staying for? From what he’s said, he’s planning to stay longer than he would for a competition, but that’s not much of a timeline. It could be a week, it could be the rest of his life, Yuuri has no idea.

What if it _is_ a week? What if Yuuri only has Vitya for a few days before he’s gone again?

It’s ridiculous for fear to clutch frigid hands around Yuuri’s ribcage when he _knows_ they’ll see each other whenever they sleep. They already spend all of their sleeping time together, which means they spend a good amount of time awake together, with the time difference. It’s fine. There’s nothing different.

Except… there _is_ something different about having Vitya here. It’s not just Vitya haunting, invisible and ghost-like, over his shoulder all day. It’s Vitya and his family being able to talk and interact and know and love each other. It’s being able to touch Vitya and feel his warmth and his breath and his pulse. It’s _living_ together, and not just _existing_ together.

And Yuuri doesn’t want to lose it. But how can he keep it?

“Yuuri? Are you all right?” Vitya’s hand slips from Yuuri’s grip to instead fall onto Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri nearly jolts out of his skin.

Yuuri looks up to Vitya, to that furrowed brow, and twisted down lips and… and he’s a moron.

He can just _ask_ Victor.

He’s really learned nothing, has he?

“I’m okay, I’m just thinking too much.” Yuuri pushes upward a bit until he can press a kiss onto Vitya’s cheek.

His mother coos slightly from across the table, and Yuuri’s red all over again as Vitya preens a little.

Okay, so maybe he’ll ask Vitya that question _away_ from his family first. That way they can talk about it without interruption, and Vitya doesn’t feel like he’s letting down Yuuri’s whole family if he changes his mind. And _also_ because Yuuri might die from embarrassment if he can’t resist the urge to hold or kiss Vitya again—and really, he knows better than to assume that won’t happen.

The rest of breakfast is pretty quiet. Well. Compared to the beginning of it, at least. Conversation flows easily with Vitya’s ability to juggle people and conversations much more naturally than Yuuri was ever able to. They help with the dishes, just like they did yesterday—though it’s so strange that Vitya wasn’t _really _here for that—and then… their day is free.

“Um…” Yuuri glances around, like the kitchen will have some sort of hidden answer to his questions. “What would you like to do, Vitya? I know you’ve seen a lot of places in Hasetsu already, but you haven’t, you know, _actually_ been to them before, so… Or we could go into the onsen, I guess? You didn’t get much time in there last night…”

Vitya tilts his head, pressing his finger to his lips as he searches Yuuri’s face. Yuuri’s brain scrambles for other options under Vitya’s scrutiny—but then Vitya’s face lights up, his hand dropping. “Can I see your rink?”

“But you’ve seen it already, I’ve been there all the time…” Except when Yuuri’s been there, he’s been practicing Stammi Vicino and he couldn’t let Vitya be there. Yuuri’s spent countless hours there since he’s woken up after the accident, but Vitya’s only been with him to the rest of the town, missing one of Yuuri’s favorite parts of Hasetsu. “You… I really never took you?”

“Nope!” Viya chirps. “I assumed that you just weren’t ready to think about skating, but obviously I was very wrong. I should have put it together with how in shape you are, though I do miss how soft you were back in Detroit…”

Yuuri flushes deeper than he has all morning. “Yeah, I know, I was fat.”

“Whatever you were, you were _lovely._” Vitya steps forward, wrapping his arms around Yuuri and clutching him tightly. “Though you’re also lovely like this. There are too many excellent Yuuris to choose from, whatever shall I do?”

“You don’t have to choose.” Yuuri presses his face into Vitya’s shoulder, like that will hide his blotchy, beet-red face. “You have them all.”

Vitya sucks in a breath. “_Yuuri_.”

“_Anyway_.” Yuuri pulls back, but takes Vitya’s hand and drags him out of the kitchen. “Let’s go get our skating stuff. The rink should be free this morning, and I’m sure that Vicchan would love to meet you for real, and not as a projection or whatever.”

“I—oh.” And he sounds a little disappointed for a moment, but Yuuri can’t be too sure before Vitya brightly says, ”Okay!”

Yuuri turns to eye him for a second, but Vitya’s smile seems genuine, so he doesn’t push.

Vitya’s luggage had been rolled into Yuuri’s room without him even realizing it, so it doesn’t take too much time to gather their things together. Vitya, of course, traveled with his skates as opposed to sending them separately. That’s one of the few fears that Yuuri thinks he may share with the entire skating community; losing your skates would be… unthinkable. Especially because traveling typically means you’re going to a competition, and who has the time to get custom skates and work them in if your own get lost?

Yuuko does a double-take when they both come into the rink, the triplets instantly swarming them.

It’s hilarious because they all _knew_ that Vitya was here, even if they couldn’t see him. Yuuko, and maybe even the triplets, had _seen_ him here only once—though Victor wasn’t quite himself, and Yuuri was hurt…

But it seems like the reality of Victor Nikiforov really being here is almost as hard to grasp for everyone else as it was for Yuuri.

Still, eventually Yuuri and Vitya escape the Nishigoris’ antics and go into the locker room, changing before heading out toward the rink.

They greet the dragons first, of course, and they can barely bring themselves to leave them to head out toward the ice. Yuuri dawdles a bit longer than he normally would, just in case…But there’s _still_ no sign of Victor developing a soulmate connection with either of them.

Yuuri sighs as he takes his glasses and his skate guards off and steps onto the ice. These past few months have felt like a never-ending cycle of impossible questions he has to somehow find the answers to, and this is just another one to add to the list.

Yuuri skates out a little bit before turning back to Vitya.

And Vitya’s looking at the ice the same exact way the Yuuri remembers looking at it back in Detroit, after Victor started appearing in his life again. Vitya’s face is mostly blank, but his eyes are wide, his lips are pressed together too firmly, and he’s gripping the side of the rink entrance so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Yuuri doesn’t hesitate before skating right back to him, holding out a hand, and letting out a small breath when Vitya loosens his grip on the boards enough to reach out and take it. Vitya’s a lot taller than him here, with an inch or two on him from being above the ice.

“Vitya.” Yuuri squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to skate.”

Vitya tenses, his body more rigid than before. “No. No, I’m fine. You wanted to skate with me and I can—”

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “We don’t have to get on the ice, we can just curl up with the dragons.”

“But…” Vitya swallows. “I know you like it when I skate.”

Yuuri winces. Yuuri does, he really does. Sure. Yuuri loved skating when Victor Nikiforov didn’t exist in his world, but then he _did_ exist, and the skater _Victor_ is has inspired Yuuri so much that he has, in turn, put too many expectations on _Vitya._

“I _love_ it when you skate. But I— Before, in Detroit, I was treating you like a delusion, like my own emotional punching bag, and I didn’t exactly mean what I said then. I mean what I say _now_. Your skating and what you’ve done meant a lot to me, but _you _mean even more than that. I just want you to be _you_. I just want whatever makes you smile, and if skating doesn’t make you smile, _really_ smile, then that’s fine.”

Vitya’s breathing picks up a little, his eyes shining. He opens his mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out.

Yuuri squeezes his hand softly. “Here, come on. If you want to let the dragons rest, we can go to the beach, or get ramen. I know you were super curious about that when you couldn’t taste it. Or even do something else instead—”

“Can I—” Vitya blurts, then stops himself. Yuuri waits as Vitya looks down, mulling over whatever he needs to. “Well, you can say no. You know you can say no. Or I hope you know that you can say no. You don’t owe me anything.”

Yuuri reaches out and takes his other hand too. “Vitya, I know.”

“Oh.” Vitya meets his eyes, blinking down at him. “Well… can I watch you?”

It’s Yuuri’s turn to take a moment. “Watch me?”

“Yes. Watch you skate. How you move is just…” Vitya takes in a deep, shuddering breath, like he’s steadying himself. “It’s a revelation. It makes me feel like I haven’t in so long, and I’ve always thought it was a shame I never took advantage of the chances I’ve had for years to watch you in person. I never paid enough attention to you in the competition, I was just… so absorbed in myself, and I regret it. But now, I… I would like to watch you.”

And how can Yuuri say no to a request like _that_? If there was anything out of everything Vitya’s said that seemed like it was a hallucination, it would be what he just said. How often did a younger Yuuri daydream about The Victor Nikiforov saying things like that to him? Except now things are different. This is Vitya, and he’s real, and he’s _here,_ and he wants Yuuri to skate just for him.

What Vitya doesn’t seem to know is that Yuuri’s been skating for him for years now, chasing after Vitya for so long that he doesn’t know any other way to be on the ice. And now… he’s finally caught up to Vitya. Maybe not in the way that Yuuri wanted, but that’s okay. Because Vitya wants Yuuri, even with all his flaws, and that’s better than whatever else Yuuri could’ve imagined.

Something warm builds in Yuuri’s chest as he stares at Vitya, meeting those startlingly blue eyes. Vitya is his, just like he’s Vitya’s, and everything he does on the ice will be just for Vitya. No other eyes will be on him, and no one else will have Vitya’s attention.

“Then don’t take your eyes off me,” Yuuri murmurs as he skates backward, Vitya’s hands sliding from his.

“Never,” Vitya whispers in return, his hands hanging empty for a moment as Yuuri drifts away, before falling limp at his side.

Yuuri takes a couple laps around the rink to warm up a little, clenching his hands into fists a few times before shaking them out. He really shouldn’t have said that. It was too much. But… Yuuri kind of likes it. And from the way that Vitya’s eyes sear into him, unrelenting, he might enjoy it at least a little, too.

Yuuri doesn’t exactly have a plan as he moves across the ice, slowly slipping into some familiar step sequences. All he can think about is Vitya’s words from last night. He said that Yuuri moved like he made the music, like he _was_ music. Like just plain old Yuuri could enrapture Vitya.

So Yuuri dances. He doesn’t do any jumps, and he doesn’t think about points or skill, he just _moves_. He slips into routines of his own, the old routines he’s memorized of Victor’s past, even a few steps that he’s picked up from some of Phichit’s routines. He keeps moving and picking up speed, twirling and spinning just for Vitya. Only for Vitya. Always for Vitya.

Eventually, he slips into the routine that’s brought him so much comfort for these past few months, the one that he pushed himself to perfect unlike anything else. He flows through the ending sequence of Stammi Vicino, entering the final spin and rising, but instead of wrapping his arms around himself, Yuuri reaches out, stretching an arm toward Vitya, toward the person that’s helped him grow and change and become so much _better_ than he ever thought he could be.

Vitya instantly begins clapping so loud that it reverberates all around the rink and makes Yuuri jolt out of whatever focus he had on his skating, reality catching up with him. He just skated all that nonsense for _Victor Nikiforov_, and it was nothing that was worthy of the most decorated figure skater in history, but… but Vitya seemed to like it. And that’s what matters.

_“Yuuri_!” Vitya waves at him from where he stands, so enthusiastic that Yuuri can see the movement while everything’s super blurred without his glasses.

Yuuri can’t fight back a grin as he skates toward Vitya, happily falling into Vitya’s outstretched arms even if he’s a little sweaty and gross, and is almost crushed in the embrace. “Did you like it?”

“_Yuuri_.” Vitya says it the only way that he ever does, even if it’s a little scolding. “Of course I did. And, I… I’ve wanted to ask ever since you posted that video, but are you going to keep skating? Professionally?”

Yuuri stiffens, but only for one second before the thought really sinks in. “I… I’m not sure how…” Yuuri’s brow furrows, and he pulls back a little so he can meet Vitya’s eyes. “But I think… I’m not done with it yet.”

Vitya’s smile somehow, impossibly, grows. “Good. I would be with you every step of the way no matter what you chose, of course. But it would be a much sadder world without your skating in it.”

Yuuri snorts softly, his eyebrows raising. “Well, I am going to have to retire someday.”

“I…” Vitya glances down at the small space between them, his lips falling into a frown. “Yes. We all have to think about that at some point.”

Yuuri hasn’t thought about it in a while, but he does remember all of those rumors about Victor retiring this coming season—though that’s probably been put to rest with how much Vitya’s been practicing. It had scared Yuuri earlier this year, more than anything else.

But now it doesn’t. Now Yuuri knows that skating might have been what Vitya once loved, but it’s consumed his life. It’s consumed _everything_. And if Vitya’s done with that, then… Then that’s okay. Yuuri just wants him to be happy, whatever he chooses to do. However long he has Vitya, he wants to make sure he always, _always_ knows that.

But that reminds Yuuri…

“Vitya?” Yuuri keeps his voice soft. “What are your plans?”

Vitya stiffens. “What?”

“How long are you staying here in Hasetsu?” Yuuri meets Vitya’s eyes. “What are you doing next?”

“I…” Vitya sucks in a breath, putting on a strained smile, but lets it drop when Yuuri frowns. “You don’t have to worry about it, Yuuri. I’ve made sure everything’s taken care of. There’s nothing you have to do, it’s all under control.”

“That’s not why I asked.” Yuuri’s frown grows, his hands shifting down to rest on Vitya’s waist. “For one, I want to know how long you’re staying because I… I _really_ like having you here. And I want to know how long I have you like this. And I want to know what you’re planning because I…” Yuuri takes a moment to center himself, thinking about his words before he says them for once. “I want to be a part of your future. If you want me to be. And you don’t have to tell me what your plans are right now, but I just… I worry about you because I care for you and I want to be with you every step of the way. _That’s_ why I asked.”

Vitya breathes in, and it’s a shaky sound, his hands trembling where they rest against Yuuri. His eyes shine, and when he blinks, a couple tears fall.

Damn it all, Yuuri made him cry _again_?

Vitya gives a watery laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much in my life.”

“I’m so, _so_ sorry.” Yuuri takes another breath, going to say something, or do something, but _what_?

“No, it… it’s good.” Vitya takes a moment to wipe at his eyes, and Yuuri wishes they had a tissue box or something. Vitya has a Makka-shaped tissue box he sometimes brings rinkside to competitions and—that is _not_ what’s important right now. “Yuuri, I just… I don’t know.”

Yuuri moves his hands a little, trying to remind Vitya that he’s there, but really he has no idea what to do. “Don’t know what?”

Vitya shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, or how long I’ll be here. I always meticulously plan out _everything_. I have a plan A, B, and C. I don’t like things being uncertain. But I… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Yuuri. Skating’s been my only option for so long.”

Yuuri holds him a little tighter. “You don’t have to keep skating.”

Vitya laughs again, but this time there’s a bit of a hysterical edge. “I know! That’s the problem. Skating’s the only option I’ve always had, but… I can’t. And I… I need to think about something. A few things, really. And I would like to do it here, with you. If that’s all right.”

Yuuri finally moves his hands away from Vitya, but only for a second before reaching up and taking Vitya’s face in his hands, pulling him down so that he can kiss the wetness away from his cheeks. “Of course, Vitya. You can stay here as long as you like. Please stay.”

“Really?” Vitya’s eyes search his face. “Are you… Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Yuuri nods. “Not even Phichit threatening to post all the embarrassing videos he has of my time in college could sway me.”

Vitya perks up a little, his lips twitching into a grin. “His _what_?”

“N-Nothing!” Yuuri pulls away from Vitya as fast as he can, picking up his skate guards. “Um. Ready to go? I know jet lag has to be killer between here and Russia. Do you want to go home?”

“Yes.” Vitya’s smile grows into something wide and practically glowing. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA #2: [I'm very sorry again, pls forgive me, but I just need a little more time so my brain has the capacity to function!](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1266434288481951744)
> 
> ETA: [I'm so, so sorry, but no chapter this week!](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1263538003386998784)
> 
> LOOK AT THESE BOYS!!! COMMUNICATING AND LOVING EACH OTHER!!!!!!!! THEY'VE COME SO FAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I'll probably be a bit delayed in responding--my mom's health has gone back downhill to the point I was about to drive over, force her into my car, and drive her to the ED. She's stable now, but I'm gonna try and spend some time near her, even if I can't give her a hug. My head's just in a really weird place right now. :'D
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) for helping me whip this thing into shape! And thank you all so, so much for sticking through this massive chonk of a fic <3
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	36. Thirty-Six

“You look like you’re happy.” Phichit smiles at Yuuri from the laptop screen.

And Yuuri _is_ happy. Things have settled down enough that Yuuri had the time to call and thank Phichit profusely—again—only to be scolded for not watching the video that Phichit meticulously edited, and forced to sit and squirm and watch it.

And Yuuri has to admit, it _does_ look pretty good. He doesn’t even look too bad. He wouldn’t watch it again, but… he doesn’t feel like he ruined Victor’s program, and that’s good, at least.

And it brought Vitya here. And Yuuri…Yuuri feels so calm and contented he doesn’t even really know how to handle himself. After everything, after all the battles he’s fought, after the parts of himself that he’s forced to change, after seeing all the love surrounding him…

Yuuri might not be happy all of the time, exactly, but he’s content. More so than he remembers being in a long time.

“You look happy yourself,” Yuuri finally responds, giving Phichit a smile.

It’s not meant as a deflection, but Phichit eyes him nonetheless. “I mean, I might not have seduced my five-time world champion idol slash boyfriend across the world with my skating, but I’m doing pretty good.”

“_Phichit_.” Yuuri covers his face with his hands. “We’re not…”

“Oh really?” Phichit’s out of Yuuri’s sight, but he can practically hear Phichit’s raised eyebrow. “Then what are you?”

Yuuri hesitates, then drops his hands, looking a little past the screen. It’s weird; Phichit and him never talked about what _they_ were or how they defined themselves or anything. They were always friends. He and Yuuko and Takeshi talked about it in the way small kids do, but they haven’t had a conversation about it since.

But Vitya is different. Yuuri loves every single one of his soulmates differently, but this is just… more different than usual.

“I don’t know?” Yuuri can’t say the words straight because he can’t say they’re exactly the truth. They might not have a label on their relationship, but Yuuri knows that they’re headed… somewhere. He’s not sure of the destination, but Vitya’s had so little freedom and love in his life that Yuuri’s okay to let Vitya guide this. They’ll talk about it, of course, but with Vitya deciding so much about his future, this on top of all that…

Well, Yuuri doesn’t plan on going anywhere. They have time.

“You _don’t know_.” Phichit rolls his eyes, in full view of Yuuri this time. “Are you procrastinating on this? If you are, I _swear_—”

“No! No, we’re just figuring things out. I swear.” Yuuri waves his hands in front of him. “We’re fine, stop snooping.”

Phichit gasps, bringing his hand to his chest.“Me? Snooping?” He tilts his head a little. “Well, it’s not like I really _need_ to snoop when you two keep broadcasting how you feel about each other to everyone around you and then some.”

Yuuri’s cheeks turn red—or maybe they’re just _redder_. Phichit is way too good at overwhelming Yuuri. And maybe Yuuri’s just too overwhelming? “Was it too much?”

Phichit snorts. “It wouldn’t be you if it wasn’t too much. And before you get all hung up on that, did Victor love it?”

Yuuri’s flush deepens. _That_ is something that Vitya’s made very clear. “Yeah. I mean, he did, you know…”

“Travel half-way across the world without any warning and piss off his coach while everyone and their mother is asking questions about where the hell did Victor Nikiforov go?” Phichit grins. “Yeah.”

“He— Wait, Yakov’s angry?” Yuuri hasn’t exactly kept in touch with him other than sending a thank you text after everything, but if he pissed off _Yakov Feltsman_…

Phichit shrugs. “Well, that’s what the other Yurio’s saying.”

Oh. Well, Yurio’s really good at making everything dramatic, maybe he isn’t _that_ angry—wait. “You’re talking with Yurio?”

“Yeah, I’ve formed a Yuuri’s-soulmate-support-group.” Phichit’s smile goes wicked. “Because _someone_ is stubborn about being loved. The only one I haven’t gotten ahold of is Victor.”

“What was that about me?”

Horror blooms cold and empty in Yuuri’s chest as he turns to find Vitya leaning in the doorway of Yuuri’s room, casual and beautiful and with the worst timing _ever_.

“N-nothing!” Yuuri reaches out to shut his laptop, but stops when Phichit screeches at him.

“Katsuki Yuuri don’t you _dare_!” Phichit pauses a moment to make sure Yuuri’s frozen solid and not about to cut him off. “Good. Now, Mr. Nikiforov, I do hope that Yuuri’s mentioned me in passing.”

A small smile quirks the corners of Vitya’s lips, and Yuuri turns just in time to catch it. “He has, don’t worry. Phichit Chulanont?”

“The one and only.” Phichit bows dramatically. “Well, not the only, there are a few other people with the name, but I’m the only _figure skater_ with this name, and I’m coming after your records so remember it well.”

“Noted.” Vitya’s fully smiling now, his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Good. Now, Mr. Nikiforov, I have… a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Vitya raises an eyebrow.

“Phichit, stop—”

“Oh no.” Phichit holds up his hand. “I’m taking this as payment for editing your video and then waiting _days_ before I could make you watch it and appreciate all the hard work the triplets and I put into it.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but all he can manage is a huff. Phichit has a point, but this is a low blow.

Phichit waits a moment for Yuuri to make his peace, and then moves his attention back to Vitya. “My deal is as follows: Your cell phone number in exchange for all the cute pics of Yuuri I have that I never posted on Instagram.”

Vitya’s smile goes slightly taut. “Why do you want my number that badly?”

“Because we, Yuuri’s soulmates, have to stick together.” Phichit clasps his hands together in front of him, resting his chin on them. “That and it would be super cool to have Victor Nikiforov’s phone number. _And_ I could add you to the group chat with Yuuri’s other soulmates and it’d piss the other Yuri off and it would be _great_.”

Vitya glances at Yuuri, his mouth at an uncertain angle, a question in his eyes that Yuuri can’t quite decipher.

It takes Yuuri a second to realize Vitya’s _uncomfortable_. Yuuri knows Phichit and his intentions, but Vitya doesn’t know anything other than the stories that Yuuri’s passed along. Yuuri had _just_ been thinking about how unhealthy most of Vitya’s relationships—if you can even call them that—were. He doesn’t have any other soulmates, no one that he feels like he can trust except for Yakov and maybe Yurio and his other rink mates, but every time he talks about how they care for them he always says something about being _obligated_ to. As if either Yurio or Yakov could be obligated to feel anything for anyone.

Yuuri reaches out a hand and Vitya steps forward to take it so quickly that it almost seems unthinkingly. Yuuri leans in a little closer to murmur, “I’ve known Phichit since he came to Detroit, and we’ve been friends ever since. He may be the worst gossip I’ve ever known, but I’d also trust him with my life. You don’t have to give anything you don’t want to, but your phone number’s safe with him.”

Vitya lets out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. “I know he’s your soulmate, I just…”

“I know.” Yuuri brings Vitya’s hands up to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to each one. “It’s okay. You can choose whatever you like. It won’t scare anyone away, least of all me.”

“Oh my _god_,” Phichit whispers loudly, earning a glare from Yuuri. “You guys are so damn _cute_, what the hell? Mari sees this all the time and doesn’t keep me informed? I’m gonna have to talk to her.”

Yuuri pretends like he isn’t blushing _yet again_. “Mari’s sick of it, I think.”

“Uh-huh.” Phichit raises his eyebrows at Yuuri for a moment before his attention shifts. “Also, yeah, I didn’t mean to come on so strong. You can say no, I mostly just want to share cute pictures of Yuuri that the world isn’t ready for yet.”

“Are these the ones I told you not to post?” Yuuri narrows his eyes.

“Uhhh, maybe. Possibly. I’m not _posting_ them, okay? Just sending it to your boyfriend. Or, well, your not-boyfriend. Your Victor. Whatever.”

That slight pink flush spreads across Vitya’s face at that, and Yuuri can’t help but smile.

Vitya clears his throat after a second. “Well, how can I say no to cute pictures of Yuuri?”

Yuuri groans, but his smile probably ruins the effect.

“Hell yeah!” Phichit tosses a fist into the air. “_You_ get it. Okay, hit me with your digits.”

They exchange their numbers, and Yuuri… he’s not sure how he feels, his emotions flipping from warm and light to a tingling of nerves up his spine. He trusts both Phichit and Vitya, and he thinks they’ll get along, but that’s _exactly_ what he’s worried about.

“There!” Phichit grins. “And, to start you off…”Phichit fiddles around for a moment before Vitya’s phone chimes.

Vitya glances at whatever Phichit sent, and his eyes wide. “Oh!”

“What is it?” Yuuri grabs at the phone, but it’s just out of reach. “_Vitya_.”

“Don’t let him have it!” Phichit moves closer to his camera. “He’ll delete it!”

“But _why_?” Vitya’s eyes go wide, and he clutches the phone to his chest. “Yuuri, you’re so _cute_ when you eat.”

“Right?” Phichit chirps.

“No, I’m _not_.” Yuuri makes another grab for the phone—and… Vitya doesn’t move away? Yuuri wraps his hand around Vitya’s phone and pauses, looking up at him.

“But _Yuuri_.” Vitya looks down at him, meeting his eyes and pouting. “I love it. I _really_ love it.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath and he burns a little. He can read between the lines, he knows that Vitya’s not totally talking about the picture, and he… Yuuri knows if he asked again, Vitya _would_ do what he said… And he looks so adoring, and…

Yuuri sighs, falling back. “Fine.”

Vitya beams.

Phichit gasps. “Holy shit, Victor Nikiforov _does_ have superpowers. A superpower cryptid that can conquer the shy, stubborn-as-hell will of Katsuki Yuuri. What a match you two make.”

“He’s just as stubborn.” Yuuri points an indignant finger at Vitya.

“Oh, I’d bet.” Phichit raises his eyebrows. “You don’t get as far as you have without being… I dunno, willful? Whatever you’ve got, we’re all waiting to see what the great Victor Nikiforov is doing next!”

Yuuri glances up at Vitya to find his brow furrowed. That is a good question, isn’t?

“Oh, I see that look. You two have something up your sleeve, don’t you?” Phichit steeples his fingers. “I’m pulling out all the stops this season, so I expect you two to do the same! I wanna kick your asses, but I want to kick them fair and square.”

A wrinkle forms on Vitya’s brow, and he opens his mouth a little like he wants to say something, but…

But he doesn’t have to say anything he’s not ready to, not to someone that’s a stranger to him.

Yuuri swivels on his chair to look back at Phichit. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing next.”

“Oh.” Phichit’s tone drops. “I assumed with, you know, Stammi Vicino…”

“I just… I don’t have a coach, or routines, or anything.” And he’s been carefully avoiding the many, many calls and emails from the JSF cornering him into doing something or other the best he can.

“But you want to?” Phichit tilts his head slightly.

“Yeah.” At least that question’s easy. “I just…”

Yuuri’s already taken so much time and money to follow his dream with so little to show for it. He doesn’t know if he can, much less if he _should_. Lately he’s been so focused on, well, everything else, that he hasn’t had time to set anything straight with his career. As it is, the competitive season is quickly approaching, and as it gets closer to beginning, it also gets closer to the decision being made _for_ Yuuri.

“You know Ciao Ciao would always be happy to have you back in Detroit. He might be here in Thailand with me right now, but you know all the assistant coaches! And what about Feltsman? You worked a lot with him, maybe he’ll take you on.”

Yuuri’s nose wrinkles. On top of both of those options meaning that Yuuri would have to move and live across the world again, _Yakov…_

Vitya laughs softly. “I don’t think that would be a good fit.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Phichit rubs at his forehead, obviously still thinking.

Well, if Phichit can come up with something it’d be great, but Yuuri doesn’t expect either of them to magically produce an answer when he hasn’t been able to come up with anything, either.

“Hey, am I interrupting anything?”

“Mari!” Phichit reaches out on his side of the screen, as if he could hug her from an ocean away. “My favorite almost-sister! My partner in crime! My source of adorable Yuuri photos while he’s so far from me!”

“You— _wait_, what?” Yuuri glances between Phichit and Mari.

Mari shrugs. “I’m accumulating his debt. I’ll cash in some day.”

“Phichit, no.” Yuuri turns back to the computer. “It’s a trap, don’t fall for it—”

“How do I get in?” Vitya turns his wide eyes to Mari.

But Mari isn’t as much of a sucker as Yuuri is. She smirks. “It’ll cost you.”

“I have the money.” Vitya nods eagerly.

Phichit whistles. “Wow, I could have done so much better.”

“_Phichit_!” Yuuri hisses.

“Oh no, I don’t need your money.” Mari quirks an eyebrow. “I need your physical labor.”

“Sure, whatever you need.” Vitya just keeps nodding.

Yuuri and Phichit exchange a look.

“He knows he could probably just ask me to pass them along, right?” Phichit glances between them all.

“Honestly…” Yuuri sighs. “I don’t even know.”

“Then it’s settled!” Mari rubs her hands together. “I hope you’re ready to work hard.”

“For adorable Yuuri? Anything.” Vitya’s expression is so serious Yuuri almost wonders if he’s joking.

“You literally have me right here!” Yuuri flaps his arms.

Phichit cackles.

“Yes, but I can have _more_ of you.” Vitya grins at him.

Yuuri sighs again.

“Oh, speaking of physical labor.” Mari crosses her arms, leaning back against the wall. “Victor, your stuff’s here.”

Yuuri blinks at her. “_Already?_”

“Oh, good!” Vitya stands a little straighter. “I was hoping it would come today.”

Yuuri’s very tempted to ask how on earth Vitya managed to have his entire life shipped here so fast, but he knows that the answer might worry him more than not knowing. Besides, Vitya’s obviously good with his finances—he has a lot of sponsors, but Yuuri knows first-hand that money shrinks quickly with the costs of professional skating and, you know, living.

“Mom said I should help you, but… I have pictures to send.” Mari winks. “Your stuff’s in the old banquet room, I cleaned it out the other day. Have fun!” And she struts out of the room.

“And I’ll take that as my cue to leave. Ciao Ciao wants me strength training. Have fun!” Phichit gives a wave and a smile and logs off before more chaos ensues.

And then it’s just Victor and Yuuri.

Vitya smiles at Yuuri, a softer smile than he gave around the others.

Something warm and pleasant pricks at Yuuri’s chest at the sight of it. This is _his_ smile. The one he’s fought for and earned from Vitya. And he wants to keep earning it every day for the rest of their lives.

“_Yuuri_.” Vitya drags out the “u” in Yuuri’s name, stepping forward and sitting in Yuuri’s lap, wrapping his arms around him. “Will you help me unpack?”

Yuuri stiffens a little, even as his arms wrap around Vitya out of instinct. Most of the time Vitya’s just that—Vitya. His Vitya that’s incredibly enthusiastic and dorky and silly in all of the best ways. But sometimes, like right now, Yuuri’s inner fanboy rises to the surface and starts screeching about things like being able to go through _all of Victor Nikiforov’s things_.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen most everything when he was projecting or whatever to Vitya’s apartment, but it still feels… invasive. Too much for someone like Yuuri. He remembers Vitya poking through all of Yuuri’s things and the roller coaster that was, but just… he doesn’t want to be invasive.

“It’s your stuff.” Yuuri finally says, loosening one of his arms to reach up and brush the silvery fringe from Vitya’s face. “I don’t want to intrude or anything. Besides, what if I put your things away all wrong?”

“Well, it’s really ours more than mine, at this point.” Vitya frowns as he shifts a little on Yuuri’s lap. “Um, well. I might have tried to buy a few things to make you feel more at home while you were there. And there are some things of mine that you really seemed to like more than I ever did…”

Yuuri feels like he should probably scold Vitya—he’s already spent way too much on Yuuri, he shouldn’t spend _more_—but the idea of Vitya sitting down and just… trying to make sure Yuuri is comfortable is too much. So he settles for something between. “So you admit you bought the console and all those games just for me?”

“Hey!” Vitya huffs. “Who’s to say that I don’t play sometimes in my free time when you’re not there?”

Yuuri snorts. “First, you’re terrible at literally everything whenever you try and ‘help’ me. Like, every single game. It’s almost a talent. Second, _what_ free time?”

“I read on my rest days, sometimes.” Vitya pouts at him, and Yuuri only just barely bites back a laugh. “And I’m not _that_ bad at playing those things.”

“Vitya, you’re amazing in almost every single way, but you’re _terrible_ at video games.” Yuuri grins. “I’ve found the great Victor Nikiforov’s one mortal weakness. _Video games_.”

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya whines. “My soulmate is so cruel to me. You haven’t even answered my question yet!”

“What— Oh.” If he’ll help unpack Vitya’s things. Their things? No, it really isn’t theirs if he thinks about it. He didn’t really pick any of it out, or buy any of it… But Vitya _wants_ it to be their things. And that’s something they could work on. If Yuuri wants to work on it.

Yuuri sucks in a small breath as he looks into Vitya’s eyes, so blue and hopeful. If Vitya wants to start on making something that’s _theirs_, well then, Yuuri wants that too.

“Okay.” Yuuri can’t comfortably reach Vitya’s cheek while he’s pinned down under the taller man, so he leans in and presses his lips to Vitya’s neck, just underneath his jaw. A slight shiver runs through Vitya, and something in Yuuri purrs with satisfaction at that, his lips curving into a smile against Vitya’s skin. “Let’s go unpack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does a jig into the room* Eyyyyyy long time no see. Life has been a special brand of insane, but staying off social media and the like has been serving me well, so here I am, scraping together the spoons to do something productive :D
> 
> Life update: My mom's had to quit her job to have the freedom and flexibility to actually recover, even with a doctor's note essentially saying she can't breathe, so! That'll be rough. And, you know, getting punched in the face in a road rage incident and all that was super fun. And since thing's have been crazy, I just came off of a two-day migraine and my body's giving me hell in general but, yeah! I'm waddling along, day by day. I'm going to try and keep up with posting, but if anything changes on that front since I'm going to be facing stress from all sides of things, I'll post updates on my Twitter!
> 
> As always, thank you to the dream team, [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) for being awesome and supporting this monstrous fic. <3 And thank you so, SO much to everyone out there being patient and sticking with me even though life is hell for a lot of us right now. You guys are the best <3
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


	37. Thirty-Seven

Yuuri deeply, _deeply_ regrets agreeing to help Vitya unpack. He should have remembered that Vitya sent everything, and he means _everything. _If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d say the whole “theirs” thing was just a ploy to get Yuuri to help so he wouldn’t have to unpack all this mess alone.

But the fact is that Yuuri _does_ know better. Vitya’s sincerity is something clear as day, and after screwing everything up and having to earn Vitya's trust back, Yuuri pushes aside the thought easily and instead lets himself grumble.

“How do you have so many pairs of underwear?” Yuuri digs around a decent sized box and _all_ of it is underwear. Most of it is Victor’s particular favorite brand of thongs, but some… oh _wow_. Yuuri slams the box shut and pushes it away.

“Well, _you_ seemed to be enjoying it.” Vitya smirks as he pulls some of his books out of a box, setting them aside. “I’ve never had my underwear gone through so thoroughly before. Should I sign a pair for you?”

“_Victor_,” Yuuri huffs, grabbing a different box and finding _normal_ clothes inside, thank any gods out there.

“Would you prefer I sign a pair of yours?” Vitya pauses to look up at Yuuri, trying to feign innocence. “We could hang it up on your wall with the posters! But on one condition.”

“I do _not_ want—” Yuuri pauses. “What condition?”

Vitya’s smile turns wicked and Yuuri regrets everything. “Why, you sign a pair of mine, of course!”

Yuuri groans, putting his face in his palms. “Why? _Why_?”

“That way I’d always have a piece of you with me.” Vitya sighs like it’s romantic and not gross and weird and perverted.

“Where the hell would my name even go on a _thong_?” Yuuri mutters into his palms. “I’d have to sign right over your— You know what, nevermind. Why do you even like thongs? They look so uncomfortable, and it’s almost all I saw you in for… for a _long time.”_

It’s quiet long enough that Yuuri chases looking up.

Vitya’s pouting again. “You don’t like seeing my ass?”

Yuuri flushes, and then Vitya _grins_ like that’s exactly what he wants. Yuuri narrows his eyes. “So you _were_ trying to seduce me. All those lies about having to sleep naked. Well, unluckily for you, I won’t be seduced!”

“But _Yuuri_.” Vitya gets up and comes over just to collapse fully on Yuuri, almost knocking him over. “I’ll have you know that thongs are very comfortable! You can borrow a pair of mine.”

“I won’t be swayed by… by _butt floss_!”

Vitya gasps, and Yuuri expects it’s from indignation until his fingers touch the skin behind Yuuri’s ear. “What’s this?”

Yuuri wouldn’t have expected anyone to memorize which ear he had Vicchan’s soulmate mark behind, or even notice that the one on his opposite ear looks a little different, with fewer but much larger paw prints. He’s been wearing his hair down most of the time, but he put his hair up for this and… of course Vitya would notice.

“Um…” Yuuri moves a little so he can see Vitya’s face, but it doesn’t help him any with how carefully blank it is. “I got it…I got it the first day that you were here. When I went to the ice rink, and…”

“Makkachin,” Vitya breathes, gently tracing his fingers ever so gently along Yuuri’s skin.

It tickles a _lot_, but Yuuri doesn’t say anything. He lets Vitya touch and look while his own mind scrambles because this—it just isn’t _fair_. Vitya deserves this, too. He deserves _more_ than this.

Yuuri reaches up and puts his hand over Vitya’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Vitya smiles, but it’s only a movement of his lips, it doesn’t touch any other part of his face. “It’s not your fault, Yuuri. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and it isn’t the last.”

He says it so matter of factly, like— like it doesn’t even _bother_ him anymore. Like it’s normal and like he deserves it.

Yuuri laces their fingers together. “Vitya, she loves you more than she does me. Maybe… it’s possible that you just missed your soulmate sign, whatever it may be? Because it’s not right.”

“Is it?” Vitya’s eyes lose a little of their focus, instead looking next to Yuuri’s head, landing on nothing in particular. “I gave everything to the ice. Above Makkachin, above everything and everyone.” Above his mother, Vitya doesn’t say, but Yuuri hears it all the same. “It… it makes sense.”

“No, it _doesn’t_.” Yuuri has to will himself not to grip Vitya’s hand tighter, too tight. “I… I’ve been horribly selfish. I’ve been trapped in my own head, and I’ve hurt so many people. I’ve hurt _you_. If you hadn’t gone ahead and sent the medicine even though I was being terrible, I might have hurt Vicchan. They might not admit it, but being so distant with my family for five years hurt them, too. And for what? I don’t even have anything to show for it. And _you_ are one of the most generous and kind and accomplished people that I’ve ever met. You deserve_ so many_ soulmates. There are so many people that care about you.”

“And yet I have none.” He tries to turn that smile on Yuuri but it breaks and crumbles. “I have you though. At least I have you.”

Yuuri lets go of Vitya’s hand to wrap his arms around him and pull him in tight. “Yes, you have me. You’re stuck with me. You made me get all attached and now I’m going to hang off of you like a leech no matter how hard you might want to get rid of me later.”

“I won’t ever want to get rid of you,” Vitya murmurs, burying his fingers in Yuuri’s hair. “Even if we hadn’t presented as soulmates as kids, I would never leave.”

The thought is both terrifying and comforting all at the same time. It’s so much responsibility to be able to see and know Vitya like this. Vitya’s his own person and chose this, of course, but his trust is precious and never, ever deserves to be broken by Yuuri’s clumsy hands. And yet… they worked through it happening. They’ve come out of this whole situation as better people than they went into it as, Yuuri thinks. And maybe, if they keep trying, they’ll keep getting better.

Yuuri bites his tongue for a moment, swinging back and forth on what to say. He doesn’t want to hurt Vitya anymore than he’s already hurting, but he doesn’t want Vitya to _keep_ hurting. And nothing will change if Yuuri doesn’t _try_ anything, so…

Yuuri takes a steadying breath. “Did I ever tell you about my mom and dad?”

Vitya’s quiet for a moment. “We’ve discussed them, yes. I’ve _met_ them.”

Yuuri gives a soft snort. “I meant about their soulmate marks.”

Vitya goes silent even longer, this time. “No. I… I assumed since you and Mari share the ring of mermaids, and you and Vicchan—and now Makka, I guess—have the paw prints… It’s the dragons?”

“Yeah. They each have a single dragon of a different color, and Mari and I both have two dragons on us. Mine is, um. Well, on my chest, you saw it. Mari’s is a bit lower, on her torso. Mom and Dad have one on each arm, and…” He squints for a moment, trying to remember which one has the blue dragon and while one has the green one—but that doesn’t matter. “Well, they’re bright and obvious soulmate marks. But… they didn’t present until after they were married.”

Vitya stiffens. “_What_?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri smiles a little. “Mom told me recently that she knew Dad most of their lives. Or, they were around each other at least.”

“That…” Vitya swallows, only barely audible in the quiet of the room. “That happens?”

“Apparently. I didn’t know about it either, I just asked about it because…” Because it’s not right that Vitya doesn’t have so many soulmates, but Yuuri doesn’t want to argue about that again. “I was curious. And Minako says it’s rare, but not unheard of.”

“Isn’t Minako your dance teacher?”

“Um, well, yeah? She’s also a witch, though.”

Vitya pulls back, eyebrows raised. “You have the strangest family, Yuuri.”

“I do,” Yuuri agrees, leaning in a little closer. “Welcome to the world’s weirdest onsen. You’re one of us now.”

Vitya beams at him, eyes crinkling. “I’m happy to be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever.” Yuuri meets Vitya’s gaze, unwavering. “No matter what. This is your home too, now. I’m sure even Minako, weird as she is, would agree.”

“Yuuri…” Vitya’s eyes meet Yuuri’s for a long moment and then they flick down to his lips and back again.

Yuuri’s heartbeat begins to echo louder in his ears. He’s kissed Vitya almost everywhere on his face _except_ his lips. It shouldn’t be scary or exciting after everything, and yet Yuuri’s breathing picks up, and he leans in a little closer.

Yuuri won’t bridge the gap; this is still a choice for Vitya to make. But he wants to make sure that Vitya knows that he _wants_ it. Every place that their bodies press together is so warm, almost buzzing with the anticipation that weighs in Yuuri’s gut as Vitya’s eyelids lower and he leans down, and—

“Did I hear someone say my name?”

Both Yuuri and Vitya jump, banging their heads together before groaning and falling apart.

By the time Yuuri recovers enough to look up at Minako, she’s smirking at him. _Jerk_.

Yuuri glares at her as hard as he possibly can, even if she probably loves every second of it.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys!” Minako’s grin, predictably, only grows. “I just figured it was about time I saw the great Victor Nikiforov in the flesh myself.”

Yuuri frowns at her. “You haven’t met him yet?”

“Did you really manage to forget I’ve been out of town?” Minako’s eyebrows raise.

“Uh…” If he’s being totally honest, he hasn’t paid much attention to anything outside of Vitya since he got here. They’re just starting to settle into a routine now, and Yuuri’s not sure how much longer Vitya’s here for… “Sorry, Minako-sensei.”

“You better be. Don’t worry, you’ll make it up to me later.” Minako places a hand on her hip. “But for now, rumor has it that there’s an exchange of cute Yuuri pictures happening?”

Yuuri groans, falling forward until his face is pressed firmly into Vitya’s chest. He thought this was _over_ and that he’d never have to think about it _again_.

“Yes!” Vitya pats Yuuri on the back even as he betrays him. “I’ve been getting a steady stream from Phichit of Yuuri’s time in Detroit.”

“Oh wow, the missing years.” Minako’s footsteps come into the room, the noise getting louder as she gets closer, making Yuuri groan again. “I’ll tell you what. Give me those, and I’ll give you what I have of baby Yuuri.”

“_Baby Yuuri_?” Vitya gasps as if Minako’s offering him the lost city of Atlantis.

“No!” Yuuri sits up straight, almost banging his head on Vitya’s chin—like either of them need any more head damage. “Absolutely not, that’s where I draw the line.”

“But _Yuuri_…” Vitya looks at him with the largest, most beautiful blue eyes that Yuuri’s ever seen, and Yuuri wavers a little. “Why?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but then presses it shut. He won’t give in to this.

“It’s because he was a chubby baby.” Minako unhelpfully says the words that Yuuri can’t get out. “I don’t even like babies that much, but even I can admit that he was adorable.”

“_Chubby_ baby Yuuri?” Vitya looks close to tears, his nose and his cheeks going pink. “_Please,_ Yuuri. I’ll do whatever you want. Anything.”

“Anything?” Yuuri raises his eyebrows, _almost_ tempted.

Vitya nods firmly, absolutely unswayed from the mischief in Yuuri’s eyes. “Anything you want.”

“But Vitya…” Yuuri turns his eyes up at Vitya, looking at him through his lashes as he gently runs his hands up Vitya’s arms. “Wouldn’t you give me anything I ask for anyway?”

Vitya gapes.

Minako cackles. “Yuuri’s a quick learner, Victor. You’re playing with fire.”

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” Vitya murmurs, almost like he’s unaware of the words as his eyes stay locked on Yuuri.

Yuuri smirks.

“Well, this was a lost cause.” Minako sighs. “And to think I even have videos of his old recitals…”

That snaps Vitya back to attention, blinking himself out of whatever fog he’d drifted off into. “_Yuuri_. Please, Yuuri. I… I only have a few, but I’ll give you any pictures of me when I was a child in return?”

Yuuri’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Not much is known publicly about Victor Nikiforov’s childhood, and now knowing the full story, Yuuri understands why. But that meant that there isn’t much photo documentation of Vitya pre-juniors, just a couple of terrible quality pictures from novice competitions.

“Deal,” Yuuri says before his decision catches up with him, and he both regrets everything and wants to vibrate out of his skin with excitement.

Vitya looks like he might get up and do a jig or something himself, now that he thinks about it.

“Great! That’s settled then.” Minako claps her hands together. “You should come downstairs, and I’ll get the goods.”

Vitya makes to get up, but Yuuri holds him there. Vitya, predictably, pouts

“Don’t give me that look! We haven’t even gotten close to done unpacking.” Yuuri sighs as Vitya’s pout only grows. “We need to put the bed together still. Even if it’s on the ground, it needs sheets if you want to use it.”

“It _has_ sheets on it.” Minako gestures vaguely over a pile of boxes that Yuuri can’t see past, toward the bed that none of them can see—Minako shouldn’t even know where it is in the room, which means…

Yuuri and Vitya exchange a look before they untangle themselves and head over to see that, yes, the bed is made with the exact same sheets that Yuuri knows very well from Vitya’s apartment.

“Uh.” Yuuri looks back up at Vitya. “Did you…?”

“I don’t think I did?” Vitya’s brow furrows as he stares at the bed like it’s an untamed creature.

“Well then, if that’s your only concern, you can finish unpacking later, right?” Minako shrugs as Yuuri turns to look at her. “This is way too much for one day anyway, and you could always use a break…”

Vitya turns to Yuuri, totally back into excited puppy mode. “_Please_, Yuuri?”

Yuuri sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not in charge of you, Vitya, you can do what you want.”

“I know, but I’m not going to let you unpack my things _alone_.” Vitya frowns.

“Fine, fine, let’s go get this over with.” Yuuri lets his hand fall and his shoulders slump.

“Yay!” Vitya hugs him, almost lifting him off the ground before practically skipping after Minako.

Taking a moment to brace himself, Yuuri follows them.

Luckily Minako has enough mercy to settle into the family side of the onsen as opposed to the public one, hauling out such a huge box that Yuuri doesn’t even know how or where she stored it. He squirms at the cooing and awing through the photo albums, eventually going catatonic and laying down with his face against the table. He almost texts Phichit to ask for help before he realizes that he should only do that if he wants to _actually_ die of embarrassment. If Phichit learns that these photos exist? That’s it, Yuuri might as well start digging his own grave.

By the time that the VHS tapes roll out, Yuuri can’t take it anymore.

“I’m helping out in the kitchen,” he announces, standing up as they slide the first tape in.

Vitya hums in response, absolutely enraptured by the unsteady picture playing across the screen, and yet he holds his hand out for Yuuri, almost unthinkingly.

Yuuri takes it with almost as little thought, before blinking and wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now.

He doesn’t want to pull away, but would Vitya even notice present Yuuri? His eyes are pinned to the screen, so enraptured, and… and…

And in love.

Yuuri doesn’t want to assume, but he knows that look. He’s had that look on his own face countless times over the past… well, however long he’s let himself love Vitya. Maybe even longer than that.

So he leans down and presses his lips to the crown of Vitya’s head, staying there for a long moment before pulling away.

Vitya breaks from his trance to look up at Yuuri and smile wide enough that his eyes crinkle, before he turns back to the TV.

And despite still wanting to crawl under the onsen and perish, Yuuri can’t help but smile a little.

If Yuuri’s dad is surprised to see him, he doesn’t say anything. He just starts giving Yuuri things to do as they prepare for the small dinner rush that the onsen gets nowadays. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm of chopping and slicing and stirring, just following whatever instructions he’s given. It’s easy to forget what’s going on in the other room.

At least until there’s a knock on the doorframe, and Yuuri looks up to see Yuuko.

“Yuuko!” Yuuri smiles, setting down his knife. “What are you doing here?”

“We just came over to have dinner with everyone. Minako invited us.” Yuuko returns the smile for a moment before sobering a little. “But, uh. I thought you might want to know that the triplets have kidnapped your boyfriend, in case you want to rescue him.”

For a moment Yuuri just snickers until he remembers what Victor and Minako were doing, and if the triplets get their grubby little hands on any of those pictures and tapes, they’ll be plastered over the internet in no time.

He scrambles from the kitchen as fast as he can, bursting through the door and into the room he last saw Vitya—

And four sets of eyes turn toward him.

Vitya’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with the triplets surrounding him. Thankfully, none of the photos or tapes are in sight, but…

Yuuri starts snickering, already pulling out his phone even as his hands shake with laughter.

The triplets are doing Vitya’s hair and nails and makeup, and Yuuri’s never seen so many pastel and neon colors on him before.

“Hey, don’t laugh,” Vitya scolds, even as his own lips twitch up.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right.” Yuuri wipes the tears from his eyes, choking on a giggle as the triplets glare at him and he snaps a few pictures. “You’re right, I just wasn’t expecting so much… color.”

“Oh yeah?” the one in pink says—Yuuri’s ashamed that he still can’t keep them straight. Thank you, Yuuko, for keeping them color coordinated.

“Then it’s your turn next,” sneers the purple one.

“I, uh, I actually have to, um…” Yuuri backs away slowly before bumping into something.

“Be careful!” Minako walks around him, setting down a bottle and some glasses. “Since it’s getting close to dinner, I figured we could have ourselves a few drinks and get to know each other.” Minako grins a little wolfishly at Vitya.

Vitya glances up at Yuuri with a little mischief of his own in his eyes, and Yuuri vaguely remembers what Victor’s told him about the banquet at Sochi. Yuuri passes on the alcohol, no matter how much Vitya pouts.

Things get a little chaotic after that, food coming into the room along with Yuuri’s parents, his sister, and Takeshi. And then everyone’s eating and drinking and chattering away. Yuuri’s not entirely sure how both of his parents are here while the dinner rush is approaching, but he can’t complain.

It’s… nice. He’s surrounded by his family and friends—and Vitya’s a part of them now, even if he can’t see it. Vitya’s smiling for real, laughing at people’s jokes and telling his own stories.

If Yuuri weren’t convinced that Vitya had more soulmates than he thought before, he’s absolutely sure now.

Eventually, everyone starts to disperse, the triplets heading home for their bedtime and a cab getting called for Minako. Vitya hangs off of Yuuri sans shirt and pants.

It was a battle to keep just that ridiculous thong on, but there were _children_. Yuuri tries to convince Vitya to stand, but all he does is snuggle into Yuuri and grumble. Yuuri’s not sure exactly when Minako plied Vitya with so much alcohol, but he’s pretty confident that he saw them playing a drinking game at one point.

So, with a long-suffering sigh, Yuuri shifts Vitya, wraps his arms around him, and lifts.

Vitya makes a noise that’s almost… squealing? Obviously delighted, anyway.

“Oh, my _Yuuri_. He’s so, so strong.” Vitya babbles as Yuuri takes him back to the banquet room, happy it’s not too far from the flight of stairs—he might have the strength to get Vitya off the ground, but a full-grown human being is _heavy._

Yuuri nearly collapses on the mattress next to Vitya when he lies him down, turning to go and retrieve Vitya’s abandoned clothes from downstairs—

Vitya’s hand closes tightly over his wrist.

“Don’t go,” Vitya chokes out when Yuuri turns back toward him. “D-don’t go. Please.”

Something in Yuuri breaks at that. And despite still being fully clothed himself, despite the fact that he’ll have to go to the bathroom at some point, and despite the fact that Mari’s going to tease him mercilessly about Vitya’s clothes being everywhere, Yuuri climbs under the sheets with him, curling around Vitya how he knows he likes.

“Never,” Yuuri murmurs into Vitya’s ear as he shakes in his arms, clutching Yuuri tight. “I promised, Vitya, you’re stuck with me forever.”

“Forever,” Vitya repeats slowly, sounding out the word.

“Forever,” Yuuri confirms, rubbing his hands across Vitya’s back until he settles, his breaths slowly evening out.

And Yuuri’s probably safe to get up then, but… he doesn’t. Not yet. Not when he can trace the shape of Vitya’s cheekbones, and the fall of his lashes. Not when he can run his hands through Vitya’s soft silver hair and hold him so tight that, even asleep, Vitya knows that he’ll never have to be alone again.

Yuuri loves Vitya. And it’s so different than anything else he’s ever felt for anyone before, so new and terrifying and yet it’s a comfort, too.

He’s Vitya’s forever, and deep down, no matter what his brain tells him, Yuuri knows that Vitya’s his forever, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Things are super rough right now, so I don't have much to say besides thank you for being patient, and I'll get to replying to comments soon--I read and appreciate every single one, but I have very little space in my head to do anything other than get by atm. But like I said, I read and appreciate every single one, and I look forward to chatting with you all again soon. <3
> 
> As always, bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/), [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said), and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) for having my back, and thank you for being awesome, readers. <3
> 
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	38. Thirty-Eight

The next couple of weeks pass so quickly, Yuuri half wonders if he’s dreaming it. That’s one of the things he’s had to talk to his therapist about a lot, honestly; it feels like things are too good. They’re going too well. It’s been so long since Yuuri’s screwed up, or since life’s turned everything upside down, or _something _bad’s happened, that it’s inevitable, right? Or else it has to be fake. Everything is just a dream he’s having while he’s still in the coma or something.

But time keeps passing, and Yuuri doesn’t wake up.

Vitya settles into a routine with Yuuri, both of them helping out around the onsen in the morning. Much to Yuuri’s chagrin, he ends up helping Mari more often than not, despite their arrangement. Vitya really wasn’t lying when he said he could cook and spends a lot of time in the kitchen with Toshiya. He also sits down with Hiroko a couple of times and they go through the finances together, reworking it and keeping the onsen afloat.

Yuuri’s a little fidgety about Vitya learning how… _not great_ that the onsen’s doing, but if anything, he finds a sort of passion in helping them do better. Yuuri’s pretty sure he hears Vitya talking to his agent for ideas one afternoon, but Yuuri’s Russian really isn’t the best.

Victor does spend time with Mari while not working too, of course. Yuuri catches them whispering over their phones more often than not, and he decides that ignorance is bliss and goes his merry way.

When they aren’t helping out at the onsen, Vitya begs to look at touristy places—and Yuuri always indulges, even as the humidity and heat start to rise—or they walk through Hasetsu hand in hand, sometimes wandering down to the beach, or they’ll head to the rink. Vitya never steps on the ice, and Yuuri never points out how he’s not going to be in shape for next season. Vitya’s started seeing and talking with his own therapist weekly, and Yuuri trusts that he’s working things out.

When the onsen isn’t busy in the evening—which is most days—they finish unpacking Vitya’s things and start to settle into the banquet room. Yuuri doesn’t exactly mean to do that, he doesn’t want to infringe on Vitya’s space. They both had their own lives and places to stay when they were projecting into each other’s lives.

But Yuuri sees the way that Vitya smiles whenever one of Yuuri’s shirts makes it into one of his drawers, or when Yuuri accidentally steals Vitya’s charger by accident, or the way Vitya lights up as he watches Yuuri wakes up in the morning, even if Yuuri’s a morning grump. Yuuri considers telling Vitya that his family’s already moved a few of their stray storage boxes into his old, small room because it’s obvious he’s not even sleeping there anymore, but he decides to let him figure that out for himself.

Because Yuuri sees how Vitya struggles from time to time.

Sometimes Yuuri catches the way that Vitya will stare at Yuuri’s tattoos, especially when they’re relaxing in the onsen and he thinks Yuuri isn’t looking. It’s not jealousy, it’s just… it’s like something heavy weighs down on Vitya, and it takes him a little while to shake it off. 

Sometimes Vitya will be in the middle of a conversation, smiling and laughing before he’s suddenly sober, staring off into space.

But the worst is the nights where Vitya’s restlessness wakes Yuuri up, murmuring in his sleep in unintelligible Russian. If Yuuri wraps himself firmly around Vitya he typically settles down, curling around Yuuri so tightly that it’s uncomfortable for a few minutes. But Yuuri doesn’t mind, not when Vitya obviously needs the connection and relaxes into an easier sleep.

Tonight, though, Vitya won’t relax.

It’s been a tough day. Yakov called Vitya earlier—Yuuri vaguely recognized the number and the tinny voice that blared out in Russian—and he’s pretty sure they argued. It’s hard to tell because Vitya’s smile always looks strained when he’s trying to blow Yakov off… but it’s getting too close to the skating season. If Yakov wants to train Vitya for yet another gold-sweeping season, especially at his age, he needs to be on the ice.

Vitya was jumpy for the rest of the day. A long soak in the onsen that night had helped, and Yuuri hanging off of him at every given opportunity made him laugh in the end, but Yuuri had had a feeling that wasn’t the end of it.

And as soon as they got in bed and Vitya had fallen into a fitful sleep, Yuuri was proven right.

“Vitya,” Yuuri whispers, grabbing Vitya’s shoulder—he’d turned to face away from Yuuri.

Vitya doesn’t even seem to notice, muttering and shifting around.

“_Vitya_.” Yuuri shakes him a little.

Vitya freezes, even as his words rise in pitch, panicked.

“Victor!” Yuuri takes Vitya’s shoulder and pulls, getting him onto his back and— oh.

Vitya’s blinking, obviously having just woken up, and he’s also crying. Tear tracks run down his cheeks, and Yuuri should have put it together sooner from the hitch of Vitya’s voice, but he _hadn’t_ and—

“Oh.” Vitya blinks rapidly, voice gruffer than it normally is. “I-I’m so sorry I woke you, Yuuri, I—”

Yuuri strokes his thumbs along Vitya’s cheekbones, not meaning to distract him but doing it anyway. “It’s okay. Was it a nightmare?”

“I… Yes,” Vitya whispers, like he can barely admit it.

“Those are… They really suck.” Yuuri’s not sure where his words go when he’s sleepy, but he’s wishing he could think of better ones right now.

Vitya gives a choked laugh. “They do. I’m sorry. I can— I can go and sleep in your old room—“

“Vitya, you’re silly.” Yuuri frowns down at him. “Why would I send you away after you had a nightmare?”

“I-I just don’t want to be a b-burden.” The tears start falling down Vitya’s cheeks in streams, faster than Yuuri can rub them away.

“You’re not a _burden_, you’re a _person._” His therapist said something like that the other day, but it sounded a lot more profound in Japanese. And when it wasn’t around two in the morning.

“No. N-no, I know I’m a lot. I know that it’s too much to take sometimes, and I’m not doing enough here, and it’s only a matter of time before—” Vitya covers his mouth with his hands, like that’s the only way he can stop the words from coming out.

It’s not hard to connect the dots, knowing what happened with Vitya’s mother, knowing that everyone who could be Vitya’s soulmate doesn’t present as one—or at least, it doesn’t _seem_ that he has any others, despite what Yuuri knows has to be the truth. But Vitya hasn’t had a lot of permanence in his life besides the cold, uncaring ice.

And Vitya’s been considering if he even wants that anymore, and what does he see left if it’s gone?

Yuuri knows that even if he’s not skating, Vitya has him and his family, but he also knows how cruel thoughts can be.

Maybe this isn’t exactly what Vitya’s nightmare was about; maybe it’s not on his mind right now. But Yuuri knows how it haunts him. It’s enough to guess.

“Vitya, we don’t want you to go.” Yuuri takes Vitya’s face more firmly between his palms. “There’s nothing that you’d do that would ever make me or my family want to push you away forever.”

“You say that, but…” Vitya gives a shaky sort of smile. “Isn’t a mother supposed to love her child unconditionally? You… you said that sometimes soulmates present later, like with your parents. B-but I… I love so many people, and it still doesn’t come no matter how much I try. And I try _so hard_.”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut a second, trying not to give in to the tears burning behind them. He shouldn’t have told Vitya about that. Sometimes hope can be worse than the distant grief of having accepted whatever lot you’re stuck with. But he did and now they both have to deal with it.

Yuuri doesn’t blame Vitya one bit, no one can help nightmares, but _why_ couldn’t this conversation have happened when he was fully awake?

“Vitya. I love you, you know I love you.” Yuuri presses a kiss to Vitya’s salty cheek, trying to prove his point. “But _fuck_ soulmates.”

Vitya startles a little, blinking a few tears from his eyes. “What?”

“They don’t—it doesn’t _mean_ anything. There’s no reasoning behind soulmates, just people that are _significant_ to you, whatever that means. Because I’ve had people in my life who aren’t soulmates, but they mean a lot to me. Celestino, and other skaters in Detroit beside Phichit, you know? If I couldn’t see my soulmate markings, I’d think maybe they’re my soulmates, too. And, like, what if you miss it? What if your soulmate presentation is… I don’t know, growing a blue hair on your head when you see someone.”

“People can have soulmates like that?” Vitya whispers.

“I don’t know! But it could happen, weirder things have happened. _We_ happened.” Yuuri smiles a little at that. “Just because you can see a mark doesn’t define anything.”

“But…” Vitya reaches up, taking loose hold of Yuuri’s wrists. “Why… why don’t _I_ get to have them? Why does everyone else have some, at least a few, but I don’t get any?”

Yuuri frowns, trying to figure out what to say. He knows he’s not a good person to have this talk with Vitya. Even if sometimes Yuuri _feels_ unlovable, he’s surrounded by love and the marks are evidence that those feelings simply aren’t true. Yuuri doesn’t know if he can do anything to help, and his chest aches at the thought.

“It’s not that you’re not enough!” Vitya’s grip tightens. “You’re enough. It’s enough. It’s just…”

It’s just sometimes it’s _not_.

Yuuri presses his lips into a firm line. “Vitya, you’re family. To me, and everyone else here. There’s a spot for your shoes at the family entrance. I know you might not think much of that, but even when I was living here and Yuuko and Takeshi were running in and out of the house with me, they made their own spots every time they came. No one here has said or posted a peep about Victor Nikiforov being in Hasetsu. They don’t—we don’t protect people like that unless they’re one of our own.”

“I know. They just…” Victor swallows, looking away.

Yuuri barrels on. “And did you notice that they’ve moved some of the storage from the banquet room into _my_ old room?” Yuuri smiles. “I’m kinda offended about that, not gonna lie, but it’s not like I’m using it anymore and they know that. You’re permanent in their mind. And if that doesn’t convince you…” Yuuri’s eyes widen as an idea hits him, so simple that _maybe_ it might work. “You know what, come on.”

“W-what?” Vitya splutters as Yuuri gets up and starts pulling him off the bed.

Vitya hardly budges, and Yuuri belatedly realizes this might be a little sudden for Vitya.

Yuuri kneels down next to Vitya, holding his hand in both of his. “I’m sorry. I-I just… There’s something I want to do, and just… trust me? You can say no. You always tell me I can say no, and that goes for you too, you know.”

“I know.” Vitya meets his eyes for a second, then he shifts toward the side of the bed, moving around Yuuri to swing his legs off the side. “I trust you.”

Yuuri’s eyes sting again, and he has to pause and take a couple of deep breaths before he gets up and leads Vitya away from the bed and their room.

Yuuri’s pretty sure that Vitya’s been most places in the onsen, from the musty maintenance closet to the gross corner by the garbage where Mari goes to smoke when she’s pissed about something. But Yuuri’s not sure that Vitya’s ever been _here_.

Yuuri knocks gently on the doorframe of the room before he slips inside, turning on the lights and wincing. He feels so terrible having to wake them up so late—or early, really—but he knows his parents, and he knows that they would want him to wake them up.“Mama?” Yuuri calls out.

“Yuuri?” There’s a shifting of sheets, and his mom sits up in bed, followed shortly by his dad. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Or, well, no.” Yuuri slips back into English, barely realizing he’d been speaking Japanese. “Vitya had a nightmare. I think he could use you.”

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya hisses.

“Oh.” Hiroko blinks at them for a moment before holding out her arms. “Come here, Vicchan.”

Vitya pulls at Yuuri’s arm, drawing his attention behind him.

He’s backed up a little, edging toward the door with his shoulders bunched up. “I’m not a child and I don’t need this, though I appreciate the thought. I know you two need sleep, your schedules are so hectic—”

“_Vicchan_.” Hiroko’s voice is firm, firmer than Yuuri’s heard it in a _long_ time, but not unkind. “I do not care if you’re five years old, or fifty-five years old. You are a son to me, and if you need me, I’m here. I want to comfort you. It would make me happy if you let me.”

Vitya sucks in a startled gasp, his hand going a little loose in Yuuri’s.

Tentatively, Yuuri tugs him forward, and he comes, until he’s stumbling in front of Yuuri and into his mom’s arms. It’s almost funny, how tiny his mom looks compared to the giant man in her arms, but it doesn’t matter. His mom hugs Vitya and murmurs to him all the same, his dad shifting a little closer to place his hand onto Vitya’s back.

Yuuri’s mom takes her attention away from Vitya long enough to look up at Yuuri and give a smile and a nod, enough to let Yuuri know that it’s okay, and that he did a good thing.

So he nods back, and then quietly leaves the room. Vitya needs to know that soulmate marks don’t mean anything to someone who cares about you, and Yuuri can give him that. He shuffles back to their room, collapsing in their messy bed and pulling the covers up.

It’s the first time he laid down alone in… a _long_ time. He used to go to bed without Vitya every night, going to Saint Petersburg as soon as he was asleep, but… he’s already too used to Vitya clinging to him, to his warmth and the comforting metronomes of his breathing and heartbeat. Yuuri’s tired enough to fall asleep, but it’s cold and uncomfortable in his own bed. Though is it technically Vitya’s? He’s too tired to decide.

Eventually, he gives up, grabbing his phone and scrolling through whatever catches his eye. Time passes, he sees it ticking away in the corner of his screen, but he’s not any more relaxed. He knows Vitya’s in good hands, but that doesn’t erase the fact that last time Yuuri saw him he was crying.

Yuuri goes into that weird state where time is passing way too fast, but not fast enough. He should really try and get some sleep, even if he’s alone. He remembers thinking about maybe needing a dog in the emptiness that was Vitya’s apartment, but now he thinks _he_ might need one when Vitya goes back to Russia. It’s a big responsibility, not a decision to be made right now or for such stupid reasons, but it would be nice…

“_Yuuri_.”

Yuuri jumps as Vitya slips into bed next to him, wrapping arms around him.

“Vitya.” Yuuri puts his phone down, turning over and returning the embrace, stroking his hands down Vitya’s back. “Do you feel better?”

“I… yes. It was… Oh!”

Yuuri blinks, freezing as he wraps his arms around Vitya. “What?”

“My back itches, and that… that felt good.”

Yuuri blinks a couple more times for good measure as his eyes adjust to the darkness without the light of his phone, and he runs his nails across Vitya’s back a few times. “Good?”

Vitya melts in his arms, giving a long, deep hum in satisfaction.

Yuuri pretends that the noise absolutely did _not _make him shudder and flush, among other things. After a few moments of scratching, Yuuri pauses. “Does it itch still?”

“Mmm. No, thank you. I think I must have had a stray hair or something clinging to my back.”

“Okay.” Yuuri relaxes his hands, softening his touch so he’s rubbing Vitya instead of scratching. They sit in the quiet for a few minutes, Yuuri’s mind settling how it couldn’t while Vitya was gone. Yuuri assumes Vitya falls asleep from how calmly he breathes, but then he speaks again.

“You were right, you know.” Vitya moves impossibly closer, tucking his head beneath Yuuri’s chin.

Yuuri wrinkles his eyebrows, trying to remember what he could’ve been right about. “What?”

Vitya takes a deep breath. “It… It doesn’t matter. If I can see or know for sure. It changes nothing.”

Yuuri hums, a small bubble of warm pride rising into his chest. He knew his mom was a good idea. Good moms make everything a little better. “Love is love. Sometimes I think most soulmate marks come from that magic, the feeling of it or whatever, but I dunno. Just because you can’t _see_ it doesn’t stop it from being love.”

“Yeah,” Vitya breathes, more a puff of air against Yuuri’s neck than anything else.

Yuuri moves one of his hands up, never able to resist touching Vitya’s hair. “To my mom and my dad, you’re just Victor. Your medals and your soulmate marks don’t mean anything to them. All they care about is you.”

“I… I think you’re right.” Vitya clutches him a little tighter.

Yuuri places a kiss on the top of Vitya’s head, and despite the rocky start—middle?—he considers tonight to be a victory of sorts.

After a moment, Vitya speaks again. “I like how you say my full name when you’re tired.”

Yuuri frowns, trying to remember how he said it. “Like what?”

“You add onto it, it’s adorable.” Vitya smiles, Yuuri can feel it against his skin. “Bic-u-to-ru.”

Yuuri’s cheeks heat. “Yeah, well. I like how you say my name in general, you know.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Yuuri can’t think of many words, much less how to describe it. “Like, _Yuuri”_

Vitya chuckles. “Well, you taught me how to say it like that.”

“I… what?” He remembers talking to Vitya about his name approximately zero times.

“When we were younger.” Vitya starts slowly, like he’s trying to remember as best as he can. “The first week that you were appearing to me, you finally huffed and said, ‘It’s not Yu-ri, it’s _Yuu_-ri.’ You were so angry, it was so cute.”

“I don’t remember that.” Then again, he was very young when he met Vitya the very first time, and he used to not remember projecting or whatever when he was asleep…

Vitya lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “My Yuuri forgets _everything._”

“Shut up.” Yuuri gently flicks at Vitya’s ear. “I do not.”

Vitya snickers, but doesn’t push the point, instead relaxing around Yuuri. Yuuri still worries, though. He trusts his mom, Yuuri just… He knows how long Vitya’s had this hanging over him, and he has to make sure that he _knows_.

“We’re not going to get rid of you, you know.” Yuuri hesitates, but pushes forward before he can think too much. “We’ve been through so much, Vitya, and we’re still together. None of this is ever going away unless you want it to.”

“I…” Vitya clears his throat, clutching Yuuri a little tighter. “I think I’m starting to understand that, now.”

“Good.” Yuuri kisses the top of Vitya’s head again for good measure, reaching down to pull the sheets over them and make sure they’re both covered. “_Good_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man!!! We're so close to the end?!?! I'm?!?!?! I actually just finished editing the fic into a shiny ebook to upload somewhere I can't mention here (if you can't guess, the link is in my Twitter bio, but it's against TOS to mention it on AO3), and I'm having so many emotions??? Send hugs pls???????
> 
> As for life things, not much has changed! More family drama, and my mom is unfortunately about the same and not doing so great. But! Compared to the last few weeks, not so bad. :D
> 
> Thank you so, so much to [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said) for beating this, and thank you [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) for pretty much making this thing exist, I probably would have dropped this fic if it weren't for her. And thank you everyone who's out there reading!!! I'm sloooooooowly catching up on comments, and every single one I receive makes my day. <3
> 
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	39. Thirty-Nine

It feels like everything should change after a night like that, but Yuuri knows better. Sometimes the most significant things in your life pass without anyone else even knowing about it, your entire worldview shifting while other people stay exactly the same.

In the morning, Vitya still wakes up first. He goes about his _extensive_ morning routine while Yuuri slips in and out of sleep to the sounds of Vitya humming and sometimes singing what seems to be a combination of Russian and some popular J-pop song Yuuri’s heard _constantly_ since he’s been home. Then, like he always does, Vitya crawls back into bed with Yuuri.

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya sings as he cuddles up close. “It’s time to get up.”

“Mmm. No.” Yuuri wraps his arms around Vitya, slipping his hands under his shirt greedily to get more skin contact between them. He’s gotten way too used to cuddling with Vitya while he’s mostly naked, and Yuuri has no shame at this point in the morning after such a long night.

“Ah, but I hear katsudon will be on the menu for dinner if we help out with breakfast.”

Yuuri cracks his eyes open, looking at Vitya. “If I eat much more of that, I’m going to get fat again.”

“Good.” Vitya tightens his grip around Yuuri. 

“I can’t skate if I’m…” The sleepiness slips away, leaving him a little empty. “I guess I’m not really skating, huh?”

“You’re still mostly in shape.” Vitya brushes the bedhead from Yuuri’s face. “You’d just be a little pressed for time to get your routines settled, but you could do it. If anyone could pull it off, it would be you.”

“And how would I even get my routines?” Yuuri sighs. “I’ve never choreographed my own programs…”

Vitya presses his lips together. “I have.”

“Don’t rub it in.” Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“No, I mean—“ Vitya pauses, looking away for a moment. “I could help choreograph your programs.”

Yuuri just stares at Vitya for a moment. In Yuuri’s most ridiculous dreams, he’d imagined a world where Victor Nikiforov saw him skate and was so unbelievably inspired that he’d insisted that he just _had_ to choreograph for Yuuri. When Yuuri let himself really go wild, he’d let himself imagine Victor dropping everything and coming to coach him.

And, well. If he really thinks about it, Yuuri did drag Vitya across the world with his skating. But he’s not just _Victor Nikiforov_ anymore, he’s not just some cardboard cutout of a man with no will of his own that Yuuri’s created. Vitya deserves better than that.

“Let’s talk about that when you figure out what you want to do with your own skating.” Yuuri pecks Vitya’s cheek. “We have time.” Even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.

“Would you like that, though?” Vitya’s eyes search his face, much more alert than they were a moment ago. “Would you like to work with me? In skating?”

Yuuri scoffs. “Of course I would. You’re brilliant. But I want you to be happy more than I want you pushing yourself onto the ice when… you know.”

Vitya hums noncommittally, even as his eyes sparkle. He’s obviously thinking of _something_, but Yuuri knows better than to keep prying when Vitya’s in this kind of mood. 

Vitya shifts a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “So… how about breakfast?”

“Mmm, sure,” Yuuri mutters, snuggling closer.

And if they don’t get downstairs until after another hour of cuddling, well. Yuuri doesn’t mind.

The morning passes quickly with chores and errands, just like most mornings in the onsen do. Maybe the only difference is that Hiroko gives Vitya a hug that lasts a little longer than normal, but Vitya loves any sort of hug from her anyway.

After lunch, they escape out of the house and take refuge in the ice rink. It’s warming up in Hasetsu and Vitya is most definitely _not_ used to the heat. He strips off layers at any given opportunity—though that’s not exactly _new_—so the rink has been the safest place to bring him.

Yuuri worried about Vitya being bored at first, but whenever he comes close enough that he can see Vitya clearly while he leans against the boards and Yuuri catches that spark in his eyes as he watches Yuuri move… Well, even Yuuri has a hard time doubting that Victor’s enjoying himself.

He’s come onto the ice with Yuuri a few times, too, and he’ll join Yuuri whenever he trains at the gym. It’s never anything too fancy when they’re on the ice together, but they’ve taken to skating alongside each other, sometimes sliding into some basic footwork that they flow through in tandem.

“Are you coming on the ice today?” Yuuri asks, tugging off his shirt.

Vitya blinks a few times at the dragons on Yuuri’s chest, and his stomach sinks.

Except, for once Vitya’s face doesn’t fall. Instead he looks up at Yuuri with a slight flush across the bridge of his nose. “I… yes, I think I could use it today.”

Yuuri smiles, blushing a little in return. “Okay.”

Vitya turns to the locker he’s adopted as his own, opening it up and taking off his own shirt—

Yuuri gasps, bringing his hands up over his mouth as his eyes nearly pop out of his face. He… It can’t be. But… _Oh. _Vitya’s back was itchy last night. It never felt exactly itchy for Yuuri, though he could see how it could be that way for some people, and _oh my god_.

“Yuuri?” Vitya’s pulling Yuuri’s hands from his face, and Yuuri’s not sure how or when Vitya even crossed the small room to get to him. “Yuuri, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not… Nothing…” Yuuri clears his throat, taking a few breaths. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s good. It’s very, very good, actually. I— I need my phone.”

“You—” Vitya opens and shuts his mouth. “Your phone?”

But Yuuri’s already digging through his things and picking it up, turning on the camera. “Turn around.”

“_Yuuri_, what’s going on?” Vitya reaches out, gently grabbing Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Just…” Yuuri does _not_ have the words to explain this right now, not with his head practically spinning. “It’ll make sense in a second. Trust me?”

Vitya only hesitates a second before he gives a small nod. “Of course I trust you, Yuuri.” And he turns around.

And that’s not _fair_, Yuuri doesn’t have the capacity to handle Vitya’s ridiculous trust and… and _this_. So he gently sets that aside for another time, and snaps a few pictures of Vitya’s back.

“Here,” Yuuri murmurs, taking Vitya’s hand as he turns back around.

Vitya’s breath catches in his throat for a moment before he reaches out, zooming in on the color now splashed across his back. Two dragons entwined, gentle expressions on their faces, one deep emerald and the over a bright blue. An exact copy of the tattoo on Yuuri’s chest.

“This… This is me?” Vitya’s voice shakes and wobbles.

“Yeah.” Yuuri can’t take his eyes away from the image, from the _marks_. “Remember last night, when you said your back itched?”

“I do…” Vitya looks at Yuuri. “That’s what it feels like?”

“Well, it’s close to what I feel.” Yuuri shrugs. “It’s kinda like… tingling, to me?”

“Oh.” Vitya looks back at the picture. “I thought it would be more… _more_.”

“What? Uh, like what?” Yuuri’s never known a soulmate to come across as more than a mark on his skin, or, well, a naked man popping into his life.

“I just… I thought it would make me feel something. Or it would change something. That I would _know_.” Vitya’s voice is oddly flat. “Why… why now? After _everything_, why is it showing up now?”

Yuuri tries not to worry about Vitya’s reaction too much, though he’s not very good at that. “I think… maybe you’ve got the answer? It’s just a mark. You said last night that it doesn’t matter, and it _doesn’t_. It’s the people around you that are important, it’s how much they care about you, and you care about them. It’s not about the marks.”

Vitya gives a shaky smile, his eyes shining.”My Yuuri, you’re so smart.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, I… You’re the one that showed me that. I didn’t find that out on my own.” Even if Yuuri was coming from the opposite place, with so many soulmates but not feeling like he deserved any of them. “I… Before I met you, I thought I knew what love and soulmates meant, but I didn’t. And I don’t like what happened, I was… I was really bad to you, Vitya. But everything that happened forced me to open my eyes and _see_ how much I loved and valued everyone, how much I loved and valued _you_, unlike anyone else I ever met, and—” 

Yuuri snaps his mouth shut, his cheeks turning red. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry. But like I said. Even if there weren’t any signs, I’d love all of my soulmates. Even if you weren’t thrown into my life like this, I can’t imagine a world where I don’t love you.”

Vitya stares at Yuuri for a moment, blinking rapidly before he gasps in a breath, and the tears start falling. “_Yuuri_.”

Yuuri sets down his phone, reaching up and wiping at Vitya’s tears. “I— That might have been a a little much. Or a lot much. I’m sorry. But it’s true, and I’ll say it as much as you need to hear it.”

Vitya struggles for a moment, opening his mouth, tightening his hand and then relaxing it over and over again, before he gives up and gives in, grabbing ahold of Yuuri and clinging to him _tight_.

Yuuri hugs him back, of course he does. He takes on Vitya’s weight when he’s worried he might collapse, and tries to rub what he hopes are soothing circles onto Vitya’s back. “Is this a good thing? The soulmate mark.”

Vitya laughs a little, choked a bit on his tears. “Yes. Yes, it’s… it’s the best thing.”

“Good.” Yuuri turns his head and presses his lips to Vitya’s cheek. “You deserve it.”

Vitya clutches Yuuri so tight that it hurts, but Yuuri doesn’t mind. He means it. He’s meant it ever since Vitya said that Yuuri was his only soulmate. Vitya deserves the world. Sometimes he’s very enthusiastic, sometimes he doesn’t think about how his words or actions will affect others, but more than that, Vitya is kind. He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s full of so much love, and he deserves so much in return. He deserves all the soulmates he could ever dream of getting.

And now that something in Vitya’s changed, he might have them.

Yuuri sucks in a breath.

“What?” Vitya pulls back a little, eyes red-rimmed, but far from sad. “Yuuri, are you okay?”

“Yes, I am, but…” Yuuri looks at Vitya for a long moment. This could backfire horribly, but… but it’s worth the risk, because Yuuri knows that Vitya deserves more soulmates, and he already has them even if he can’t _see_ that. He doubts a lot of things, but never that. “We should see the dragons.”

Vitya’s eyes widen, understanding flashing across his face before his breathing picks up.

“I mean, we don’t have to. Only if you want to. They aren’t going anywhere—”

“I want to.” Vitya meets his gaze, firm even if there’s tension held in the bunch of his shoulders. “I…I want to know.”

Yuuri hesitates for a moment, then nods, untangling them only just enough for them to get a shirt back onto Vitya—much to his chagrin—and then they walk into the rink with a firm hand around each other’s waists.

It’s very quiet, and when they reach the dragons, they can see why. They’re sleeping, Makkachin draped across Vicchan and pinning him down, though he seems pretty pleased about the whole thing with his head tucked firmly into Makka’s armpit. No wonder he didn’t hear them approach.

Yuuri loosens his grip a little. “Here, I’ll go wake them up—”

Makka’s head shoots up at the sound of Yuuri’s voice, Vicchan scrabbling against the soft floor for a moment before dislodging his own head from the crushing weight of Makka. 

For a moment they all just stare at each other, but the dragons aren’t exactly patient creatures. The two of them trip over each other as they get to their feet before launching at their humans as delicately as they ever do.

Which isn’t very delicate at all.

Before Yuuri knows it, he’s on the ground, both his arms raised to protect himself from the assault of tickling dragon tongues.

“Stop, stop!” Yuuri waves his hands, unable to hold back the giggles. “Get off!”

The dragons, good beasts that they are, get off him immediately, both sitting back next to each other, the size difference between them a little funny. But they both shift on their feet, tails flicking a little in their eagerness to jump back onto them. 

But they can wait a little longer. Yuuri turns to Vitya, finding him staring at the ceiling, not moving.

“Vitya?” Yuuri pushes up, crawling over and shaking him a little bit. “Are you okay?”

Vitya blinks, eyes focusing on Yuuri. “It itches behind my ears,” he murmurs, so quietly that it’s almost like he’s afraid to say it.

Yuuri reaches down with shaking fingers and brushes Vitya’s hair away from behind his right ear, then his left, holding his breath. When he pulls back and meets Vitya’s eyes, he can only nod.

Vitya smiles, wide and heart-shaped as he pushes up and hugs Yuuri again, laughing a little.

“Both?” he asks.

“Both.” Yuuri nods again.

“Just like yours?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri smiles as Vitya laughs again, so breathless and happy that Yuuri can’t help but laugh too.

The dragons can’t resist a hug without being involved, of course, joining in on the fun and knocking the air out of the both of them, but Yuuri doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. Vitya’s so unbelievably happy, and Yuuri’s so overwhelmingly relieved that nothing else matters.

Yuuri’s not sure how much time passes before things settle down, all of them lying in a pile on the rink floor—

Until Vitya sits up straight.

“_Yuuri_.”

Yuuri hums in response, looking up at Vitya from where he still rests on Vitya’s chest. He probably uses Vitya’s chest as his personal pillow way too often, but neither he nor Victor seem to mind.

“Yuuri, we have to go back to the onsen.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. “Why?”

“They don’t know.” Vitya’s brow wrinkles, obviously concerned.

But Yuuri just grins. “Vitya, out of everybody, they already know.”

“But…” Vitya’s face falls a little as he looks somewhere over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean they won’t be excited, you know.” Yuuri reaches up and pokes Vitya’s cheek, drawing his attention back to him. “They already knew that you were a part of the family before they even _saw_ you. They’ll be happy, but they won’t be surprised. I’m sure they’ll want to see, though.”

“_Oh_.” Vitya blinks, before a smile grows on his face. “Then I want to show them.”

“Then let’s go.” Yuuri pushes up off the ground, brushing himself off a little, and then holding his hand out to Vitya.

Vitya takes it.

There’s no need to rush home, but nervous energy is practically vibrating from Vitya, so he’s not ashamed to say that they jog most of the way there and run through the main entrance of the onsen.

“You boys are back soon!” Hiroko beams as she walks up to Vitya, patting his back as he’s bent over, catching his breath.

Either he’s really out of shape or he _really_ doesn’t have the stamina for jogging, Yuuri’s not sure which.

“I…” Vitya gasps. “There’s… It’s…” He gives a frustrated noise, before he reaches down and tugs off his shirt.

It probably says something that Yuuri’s mom is barely shocked by this. Instead, when her eyes finally fall on Vitya’s back, she gasps and reaches out, delicately touching the lines of the dragons. “Vicchan!”

“I know!” Vitya beams, even as he still gasps.

“Toshiya!” she calls out as she barely gives Vitya enough time to take off his shoes before dragging him further into the onsen. 

Yuuri scrambles to follow, just far enough behind that he ends up running into Mari before he catches up to them.

“What’s going on?” Mari arches an eyebrow. “Did you bring over another foreign soulmate?”

Yuuri snorts. “No, not this time.”

“Then…?”

“Vitya has his marks. His dragons from Mom and Dad.”

Mari pauses for a moment before she smiles. “About time. C’mon, let’s see it, then.”

They finally catch up to them in the middle of having a group hug with Vitya and Yuuri’s parents in the kitchen, Vitya babbling a little as he holds them.

“Of course you’re shirtless.” Mari rolls her eyes as she walks up and pats Vitya on the back. “Congrats, though.”

Vitya gasps in response, pulling away just enough to bring up his wrist and show Mari and Yuuri. “Mari!”

An air serpent wraps delicately around Vitya’s left wrist, vibrant and fresh and new.

“Hell yeah,” Mari says as she checks out her own wrist, turning it around until Vitya reaches out and drags her into a hug.

In true Hasetsu nature, it’s only so long before Minako and the Nishigoris wind up coming over, and Yuuri’s pretty sure that Vitya gets even more soulmates, but it’s hard to keep up with the level of chaos that unfolds as Minako plies a bottle of sake from the onsen and people start eating and drinking and celebrating. He stays as close to Vitya as he can, though.

There’s a small trembling across Vitya’s frame, and Yuuri can only imagine it’s because this is a lot. It’s _so much_. Yuuri probably wouldn’t be able to handle it. But whenever he asks Vitya if he wants to leave and go back to their room, he shakes his head and says, “Not yet.”

And Yuuri’s a little glad for that, in some weird way. Vitya’s missed out on so much love for so long that he deserves to be flooded with it, to have so much of it shoved in his face that he can’t see anything else.

This family, Yuuri’s family, is Vitya’s family too. And now he can see it, he has _proof_ that no one can deny.

Yuuri doesn’t know how he ever doubted that he and Vitya could be soulmates. He gets on some level that his brain is awful and fought him over every choice he’s ever made, and he knows that’s why. But it’s so _right_ to see Vitya playing with the triplets, and talking shop with Yuuko and Takeshi. It makes sense when Minako starts poking and prodding Vitya and asking all about his marks like he’s some science experiment. The rightness of Yuuri’s mom patting Victor’s head and calling him “Vicchan” while his dad brings out katsudon and Vitya sits there with the biggest grin is… it’s overwhelming.

But it’s good.

It’s better than good.

Even when things go horribly, terribly wrong, Yuuri’s life with Vitya in it is perfect and he wouldn’t change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Victor deserves all the soulmates!!!
> 
> Alright, sorry this is odd, I know I don't normally ask this, but if you like this chapter, consider sharing it wherever you lurk? To put a long story short, I've been super triggered by many events coming at me from a ton of different directions (why does it _always_ has to be when it rains it pours???) and interacting with other people outside of a tiny circle has been making me incredibly physically ill, and I currently have all social media blocked to stop myself from feeling guilty about not checking it. I was starting to feel a little better and tested myself this morning by replying to some comments--and then I got news that something's going to happen that will absolutely trigger me any moment today or tomorrow! So!!! I wanted to post this chapter before it knocks me completely out of commission again. While also making lunch and getting a few things done aksjdnkasjnd Also, since I know some people are concerned: my mom was maintaining her health but started sliding downwards again over the weekend and the doctors currently don't know what to do with her, so! I'll probably be overwhelmed for a hot minute. I know I'm behind on everything, but all of your guys' comments and support means the world to me <3
> 
> As always, so much thanks to [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear), and thank you all for reading!!!
> 
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	40. Forty

Yuuri’s exhausted but he can’t sleep. He has no idea how Vitya managed to pass out the instant that he collapsed in a sprawling heap on top of Yuuri, not with the buzzing still running through Yuuri’s body, static filling his brain.

Normally Vitya’s weight is a comfort, but right now it’s pressing down on all the wrong places. It’s a suffocating pressure, and it’s like he’s not getting enough air in his lungs no matter how much he focuses on taking deep breaths.

With slow, careful movements, Yuuri slips out from beneath Vitya, a heavy guilt gnawing at him as he pulls off Vitya’s gentle, warm hands, but he just…

Something’s wrong in his head. Even though maybe nothing’s _actually_ wrong, he knows that he needs to work it out. 

He needs to think.

Luckily he knows exactly where he thinks best.

Old habits kick in as he gets dressed and slips from the house as quietly as he can. No one and nothing stirs, the sleepy onsen far from rousing at this hour. The streetlights barely manage to illuminate the inky darkness as Yuuri makes his way through Hasetsu. It’s late, way too late to be out and jogging, but Yuuri’s feet know the path to Ice Castle almost better than he does.

He opens the back entrance, taking a deep breath of the familiar tang of ice and cold of his home rink, and settles a little more into his own skin. He greets the sleepy, cuddly dragons for a moment, their happy thrumming comforting, but… it’s not enough.

With a few more scratches behind their ears, he leaves the pair of them to their sleep. He takes his time putting on his skates, letting himself take a few deep breaths before he steps onto the ice.

He takes a few laps around the rink in long, lazy strokes, just letting himself feel. The wind drags through his too-long hair, his sharp blades gliding smoothly across the perfectly maintained ice, and the freedom of being able to move like this, of seeing the infinite possibilities in every step he takes, burns through his veins with control and comfort. It’s nice.

But his mind still races in circles, a pile of ouroboros thoughts that won’t stop gnawing and consuming his brain. They never stay focused on anything for too long. What if Vitya prefers his new soulmates to Yuuri? No, he knows that’s ridiculous. What if Vitya decides to move on with his career and leave Yuuri behind? Of course he won’t. What if Yuuri’s being too much of a burden to his parents? Well, there _is_ a point to that, but he knows that they don’t mind right now. Everyone knows that everything’s a mess, and all of them are figuring it out, but he can’t stop _thinking about it_.

Yuuri just… he doesn’t know why he’s like this. He’s not jealous of Vitya, he knows that for sure. He’s wanted Vitya to find his soulmates and be a part of his family like this for so long that it’s… it’s just that…

It’s something. Something that keeps rolling around in his mind, slipping just out of grasp whenever Yuuri grabs at it.

It’s not even like it’s _bad_. Yuuri’s happy. He’s just _Yuuri_, and apparently that means that his anxiety won’t cut him any breaks.

Yuuri huffs a frustrated sigh. This obviously isn’t working. Instead, he skates to the center of the rink and falls into an opening pose that he knows better than any of his own, his head and his shoulders drooping down. Maybe something more focused will help him get his mind back on track.

With a deep breath, he lets the music rise and swell in his head, and he moves.

At least he knows that everything that’s happened these past couple of days has been good. This isn’t like back in Detroit. He doesn’t have anything to grieve anymore; all he has left are scars. And they may be deep, but they’re a part of the past. Now is the future, and he knows this is what he and Vitya want. It’s what his whole family wants. He’s even a little excited for Vitya to see Yakov and Yurio again—or maybe they’ll even present as soulmates over distance. When they talk next, or… Maybe it’ll take until Vitya goes back home to Russia to get back to training, if he wants to.

They’re cutting it close. There’s still time for them both to go back to skating if they wanted to. Yuuri’s kept up with some training, though he’d have to really buckle down again to be in competitive shape. Maybe he can even reuse some of his old programs, polish them to his current skill level.

But Vitya’s still not sure, and Yuuri doesn’t know what to do, and both of their futures are in limbo.

Yuuri understands after the last few months that Vitya’s has a lot to think about and process and decide, he _really does_. But he doesn’t want Vitya to go back to that apartment and be all alone after his time in Hasetsu. Yeah, Yuuri will be around whenever he’s sleeping, but it won’t be the same. Vitya deserves more.

Maybe that’s what’s bothering him?

Or maybe he needs to stop trying to logic away his anxiety when it’s not anything logical to begin with.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

The voice doesn’t scare Yuuri, it’s too familiar to be anything but comforting.

Yuuri pauses and swings around to look at the entrance to the rink, finding Vitya standing there, skates on and perched to step onto the ice.

Yuuri distantly wonders how long Vitya’s been there watching him while he’s been stuck in his own head, but it doesn’t really matter.

“Please,” Yuuri answers, holding out a hand.

Vitya smiles as he leans down and takes off his skate guards, skating almost lazily as he comes forward to Yuuri, taking his hand and pulling him forward.

For a moment Yuuri thinks that they’re just doing their usual playing around on the ice, but his breath catches as he begins to recognize the movements.

They aren’t stopping Yuuri’s skate of Stammi Vicino.

Yuuri slips into the familiar movements, letting the program sweep him away as he and Vitya slowly begin to add elements of things they’ve been playing around with, touching and holding each other more and more as the routine continues.

He feels the lyrics deeply, down to his bones, aching in him as Vitya gazes at him like he’s the only thing worth looking at, and he can only hope that Vitya can see the same thing in Yuuri’s eyes because it’s the truth. It’s all that matters right now. Not whatever worries that are always lurking and gnawing at the back of Yuuri’s mind, not whatever Vitya’s done, or will do. No matter what soulmates they have or don’t have, this is what matters.

If it were up to Yuuri, he’d spend the rest of their lives like this, on the ice, touching and loving Vitya. He knows it’s a silly dream, but for now, he lets himself imagine. He lets himself _feel_ Stammi Vicino, lets himself skate for Vitya, and with Vitya.

They’ve done this so many times together, fooling around on the ice until Yuuko comes in to see why they’re laughing so loudly. But this is different. There’s only the noise of their skates against the ice, the sound of them breathing each other’s breaths, the rustle of fabric as they touch and caress and hold more and more, until the song rises, its silent climax echoing around them.

They come to the end of the skate absolutely entangled in each other, hands clasped around each other’s bodies instead of the original ending, wrapped only around their own necks. And it feels _right_ in a way that the original choreography never, ever did.

Yuuri looks up into Vitya’s eyes and he can’t see anything else. He doesn’t want anything else. He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

“_Yuuri_,” Vitya murmurs, reaching up and cupping Yuuri’s cheek, drawing close enough that they press their foreheads together, but there’s still too much room between them. They should have no negative space, no distance. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Yuuri repeats, a breathless plea.

And Vitya leans in, pressing their lips together, eliminating the very last of the distance between them.

They’ve kissed each other so much, everywhere except on the lips, that it’s not the most groundbreaking thing. It’s not something strange and new and different. It’s comfort, and it’s warmth, and it’s love, and Yuuri savors the way that they fit together so perfectly, on almost every level possible. His heart beats faster, and his lips tingle, and he wishes it could go on forever.

But, finally, Vitya pulls away, the both of them catching their breaths as Vitya’s fingers caress Yuuri’s face, and Yuuri lets his hands wander a little, touching and feeling and letting Vitya know that he’s here and he’s always holding on.

“I love you,” Vitya murmurs as he moves on to kiss Yuuri’s cheek, his nose, his forehead, before coming back to his lips. “I love you _so much_,” he breathes against Yuuri.

And it takes until that moment to realize that Vitya’s never said it before. He’s never for a second let Yuuri question it, he’s expressed it in every single way possible—but he’s never put it into words. He’s never _told_ Yuuri.

Tears sting in Yuuri’s eyes. “I love you, too. So much. More than anything else. _Vitya_.” He leans in and takes his turn kissing Vitya. And he’s probably no good at it, his limited experience coming from drunkenly making out at college parties. But all the same, he and Vitya melt into each other’s touch until they have to catch their breath again, smiling at each other until Yuuri’s cheeks hurt.

“You know, we were pretty good at that,” Vitya comments, twirling some of Yuuri’s hair around his finger. “Skating, I mean. I’m not surprised about the kissing.” He pecks Yuuri’s cheek again for good measure.

“Maybe we should become pair skaters for the next season.” Yuuri leans in to kiss Vitya’s cheek in return. “We’ll just adapt some of our old programs.”

Vitya laughs. “Well, that would surprise everyone, wouldn’t it? I don’t think I’ve even seen anyone theorize _that_ to be my move for next season.”

A moment of silence passes, and Vitya’s smile fades a little, a bit of sadness weighing down his eyes. “Yuuri, I’m sorry I’m taking so long to decide everything. You’ve been nothing but kind and accommodating, and I just keep putting it off…”

“Take all the time that you need, Vitya.” Yuuri holds him a little tighter. “I like having you here.”

Vitya just stares at him for a long moment. “You know, you keep saying that, and it’s so obvious that your family loves me, but… It feels too good to be true. That I’ll say or do the wrong thing and you’ll tell me to go, and that will be the end.”

Yuuri unwraps his arms from around Vitya, reaching up and taking Vitya’s face between his palms instead. “Vitya, you could accidentally burn down the onsen and I wouldn’t send you away.”

“I— I know that.” Vitya looks down. “I do. On some level, I don’t doubt that at all. I just… I feel like we’re stuck between things, pressed together by forces outside of our control. That one thing will shift, and we’ll no longer be stuck together, and we’ll drift away.”

“No. Vitya, I’m your… your…” Yuuri frowns. They’re soulmates, yes. But they’re not really _platonic_ soulmates anymore. They’re friends, of course, but they’ve moved onto something friend-adjacent, something… _something_.

“What do you want me to be?” Vitya looks at him through his lashes.

And it’s so seductive that, after everything, Yuuri almost laughs. But he doesn’t. Because he knows that this is how Vitya hides sometimes, when he’s scared or nervous.

So Yuuri just smiles at Vitya. “You’re my partner. My soulmate. My boyfriend, I guess, but that feels…”

“A little lame?”

Yuuri laughs. “Yeah. But I guess that’s what we have for right now.”

“For right now,” Vitya muses. “What do you have in mind?”

“_I_ have in mind that we’ll find a way to spend the rest of our lives together.” Yuuri flushes as he says the words, a little embarrassed of their boldness, but he doesn’t regret them. Not when it’s Vitya. “But those kinds of words typically come with things like rings.”

That delicate flush spreads across the bridge of Vitya’s nose, until it brushes the tips of Vitya’s ears. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he barely whispers.

“Good.” Yuuri presses his lips to Vitya’s nose before falling back. “It’s nice to know where I stand with you, you know. Even if we don’t know about skating or where we’re going. We’ll do it together.”

“We’ll take on everything together.” Vitya nods, serious, before looking away again. “Though… I do understand if I decide not to skate again, and you…”

Yuuri strokes his fingers along the sides of Vitya’s face, wishing that he could just _show_ Vitya how much he’d be okay with Vitya never skating again. “You know, you could leave everything to do with skating behind and I’d still be with you, right? That you’re so much _more_ than just your skating?”

“Oh?” Vitya asks, like he really doesn’t know that.

And, honestly, he probably doesn’t. Skating’s come first ever since his mother left him over it, and… and no wonder he worries about how this will all affect Yuuri.

“I don’t care what you do, so long as you’re _you_. You could become… I don’t know. A novelist. A musician. A dancer. An actor. A dog groomer. Anything at all. You’re Victor Nikiforov, you can do _anything_.”

Vitya laughs, bitterness lacing his voice. “Exactly. I’m Victor Nikiforov. A name that’s synonymous with skating at this point. Do I really have a choice in what I do?”

“Yes, you do.” Yuuri makes his grip more firm, searching Vitya’s face. “You’re still Victor Nikiforov, regardless of whether or not you’re skating. You’re Victor Nikiforov if you never look at the ice ever again. You’re my Vitya no matter _what_.”

Vitya scowls. “I’ve really come to hate that name, after… well, you know. Nikiforov’s started to mean something that— that isn’t _me_. I know it’s one of the few things I have left to define me, but sometimes I wish I could cast it off altogether.”

Yuuri presses his lips together, reaching up and placing his thumb gently over the furrow in Vitya’s brow. Vitya doesn’t deserve this. Any of this. “Well, you know my family’s basically adopted you. You can be a Katsuki if you want. My parents would be happy to pass the family name on to you.”

“Oh?” Vitya stares at him for a moment before he lets a grin grow slowly across his face. “Is that a marriage proposal?”

Yuuri laughs. “No, no. You’ll know if I’m proposing to you, believe me. Besides, that’s not how I would do it, anyway. I would never give up the chance to be a Nikiforov, I’ve been dreaming about that since I was, what, thirteen? Ever since—”

Vitya’s eyes widen and Yuuri cuts himself off _way_ too late.

He groans and covers his face with his hands, regretting everything, Here Vitya is, telling him how much he hates his name, and Yuuri just starts _gushing _over it, and… and…

And Vitya’s laughing, light and easy and like this is actually hilarious and not horrible and awful and embarrassing to him. His hands ply gently at Yuuri’s own until he lets them fall away, needing to make sure Vitya’s okay.

And he is. He’s smiling, eyes bright as he immediately takes advantage of his opening leans in to kiss Yuuri again, and again, and again, until Yuuri is breathless and all he can think about is Vitya. Vitya around him, Vitya’s lips on his, Vitya’s and his own future twined together in a way that no one could pry it apart.

Yuuri is Vitya’s, and Vitya is his. There’s no doubt about that, and it will never, ever change. But he knows how those deep, dark fears need so much work to uproot them, and…

Yuuri’s going to make sure that Vitya knows that Yuuri will never, ever leave him. That his home has been made in Yuuri’s heart, and only he has the key.

And he knows exactly how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to defend my honor and say that I absolutely meant to have them kiss before the second to last chapter (the third chapter’s the epilogue), but they’re MORONS. That’s all.
> 
> We're so close to the end ahhhhh??? And as for me, not too much has changed since Tuesday. I know I normally give you guys a more thorough update, but I'm really exhausted from a few things that happened yesterday, so I'm gonna just slap this up and then probably keel over onto the nearest horizontal surface. So if anyone's up for sharing this chapter around, I'd be immensely grateful because I still can't stomach social media!
> 
> As always, [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) are truly MVPs, and I'm honestly speechless about the fact that you guys have followed me through so many highs and lows and trusted me on this very long journey. Thank you!!!
> 
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	41. Forty-One

It’s a couple of days before Yuuri can sneak away from the onsen without Vitya noticing. And even then, he couldn’t do it alone. He had to ask Mari to help, and—in the process—lost some of his dignity to the pictures he gave her permission to send to Phichit and Vitya.

Vitya’s barely kept his hands off Yuuri since that night at the ice rink, and it’s not that that’s _unusual_, exactly, but the kissing is very, very distracting and poor Yuuri’s heart just can’t take the pout that Vitya gives him when he pulls away.

Okay, maybe Yuuri’s just as clingy as Vitya and looks for any excuse to keep touching him and kissing him back. Even when they’re supposed to be doing chores, or skating, or walking.

Absolutely no one’s surprised by this development, and Mari’s teasing only gets _worse_.

But Vitya preens under it, and— and…

“Yuuri, _go_.” Mari rolls her eyes as she practically shoves Yuuri out of the door of the onsen, leaving him to walk to the train station alone.

He _could_ get this errand done in Hasetsu, but he and Phichit spent half an entire night scouring the internet and finding the _best_ place where Yuuri could get what he wants done, and it’s only a short trip away, and…

Yuuri sighs as he climbs up to catch his train, still finding the raised platform strange and foreign. And if his home feels weird to him, he can only imagine what it feels like to Vitya—maybe that’s why it’s taking so long for him to make up his mind about the future. Hopefully, after how they haven’t been able to keep their hands off each other, Vitya’s put together that if he goes back to Saint Petersburg, Yuuri’s following him no matter what.

Well, of course if Vitya _wanted_ Yuuri to stay; if he needed his space or whatever, Yuuri would let him have it, no questions asked. But he’s too used to sharing a bed, and too used to holding Vitya, and too used to kissing Vitya, and… Too used to too much.

Yuuri could survive without Vitya. Vitya’s not like air, he’s not necessary for Yuuri to live, but Yuuri doesn’t _want_ to live without Vitya. Not with how happy they make each other, not with how much better Yuuri is with Vitya, and how much better and healthier Vitya seems to be now that he’s found a place that belongs to _him_, and not to the ice.

Which brings Yuuri to his errand.

He hates how crowded cities can get, and he has to take a bus to get to his destination, and it’s hot and humid and he feels a little frayed and worn by the time he walks into the shop, even though it’s not even noon when he gets there.

The employee is a blessing though, and doesn’t even raise an eyebrow as Yuuri hauls himself into the small shop and says exactly what he wants. He’s thought a _lot _about this. And maybe he’s thought more realistically about it in the more recent months than he has in the past few years, but he still holds onto a few silly things. Because maybe it’s a little dramatic, but Vitya _loves_ surprises, and Yuuri wants to spend the rest of his life surprising him.

Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, Yuuri’s order will take an hour or two to be done. He bites back a sigh as he thanks the employee and heads back out into the heat to find a small cafe or somewhere else to grab a quick, light bite to eat.

He kinda sticks to his diet with what he orders—at least it’s not fried?—because he’s pretty sure he knows what he’s doing next now. He’s already said it, after all; he’s not ready to leave the ice. He’ll probably only stick to national competitions this year because there’s no _way_ he’s getting a hold of a coach or any other professional this late in the game, but he’ll make it work. He has the support of all of his soulmates, and with them, he can pull it off.

It’s been a slow realization, but he’s pretty sure that Vitya knows on some level with how he watches Yuuri move when he’s skating and exercising. Vitya’s eyes are almost always on Yuuri, but there’s something different in his gaze while Yuuri’s focused on skating…

Well, they still need to talk about it, but Yuuri plans on talking about their futures tonight anyway. And it’s not like Yuuri’s been putting it off, exactly? He just hasn’t been totally sure about what he wanted, and Vitya was in a similar position.

Though what Yuuri’s up to right now is even more terrifying than returning to skating.

It’s funny; in Detroit, before Vitya showed up, Yuuri wouldn’t have been able to imagine anything more frightening and awful than just the idea of stepping on the ice competitively again. Then again, back then his priorities were a bit skewed to begin with.

Now he has a lot that’s more important than skating, even if he still loves that, too.

Yuuri takes out his phone to glance at the time, and of course it’s barely moved at all. But he smiles when he sees he has a couple of texts from Vitya sent between when he left the shop and got his food.

Vitya ♥:

Yuuuuri!!!

Where are you?

I miss you!!!

When are you coming home?

Yuuuuuuuri!!!!!

Yuuri smiles wide. To anyone looking Yuuri probably looks like an idiot, and to those people he says: _good_. Because he’s absolutely an idiot for his Vitya.

Yuuri:

I’m just running an errand, I’ll be home later

Vitya ♥:

But you didn’t even say goodbye )))

Yuuri:

I kissed you for like five minutes this morning

Vitya ♥:

You’ve been gone since this morning?!

_Shit_. He should probably stop talking to Vitya because that man is far from dumb. It wouldn’t take a lot to connect the dots, for him to find out what Yuuri’s up to. But it’s _Vitya_. And Yuuri can’t say no.

Yuuri:

Mari was mean and threw me out of the house this morning

I had no choice

And it’s not exactly like he’s _lying_. He’s just… bending the truth. To hide certain things. Which makes Yuuri squirm a little, but he just really wants to surprise Vitya if he can.

Vitya ♥:

)))

I’m going to have to have a talk with her

Yuuri:

About?

Vitya ♥:

About stealing Yuuris

Yuuri snorts as he takes a sip of his drink, trying very hard not to choke.

Yuuri:

She’d say that I was her Yuuri first

They text back and forth for a long time before Vitya finally gives in and calls Yuuri, incredibly disappointed when Yuuri says no to video chatting. Not that Vitya could guess what he’s up to by where he is _now_, but he doesn’t want to risk it. At this point Vitya _definitely _knows that Yuuri’s up to something, but in true Vitya fashion, he never asks directly. Eventually, Vitya has to leave to go help clean up a mess at the onsen—as per his debt with Mari—and Yuuri glances at the time and his stomach twists into knots.

He should be able to go and pick up his order now.

Yuuri walks back to the shop, almost feeling like his body isn’t his, like what he’s seeing can’t possibly be real. He can’t possibly have done this. Of all people, he can’t be living Katsuki Yuuri’s life.

But somehow it _is_.

The train ride home is pretty quiet, only as strange as a typical trip by train. The sun’s dipping down closer to the horizon now, and Yuuri can practically see the ridiculous pout that he’s going to get from Vitya when he gets back.

He’s pretty sure that Vitya will forgive him, though. Especially when he figures out why.

Unless… Unless he doesn’t like it? What if he doesn’t actually want this? What if this just makes everything worse, and—

_No_. Yuuri knows better. It’s almost unreal that it’s been only months that he’s known Vitya as an adult when Yuuri feels like he knows parts of Vitya better than himself. Then again, they have spent hours and hours together almost every day, talking and getting to know one another like Yuuri’s never known himself.

And that means Yuuri knows Vitya well enough that he can’t doubt this, no matter what his mind tries to make him believe.

Even as Yuuri stares out the train’s window, looking at his reflection and wondering how this is _him_.

The train stops at Hasetsu station and it takes everything in Yuuri not to start running home. Only the anxiety churning in his gut keeps him moving at a regular pace, breathing in even breaths of the salty, briny air of his childhood town and watching as the sun arcs lower and lower.

By the time he reaches the onsen, everyone’s prepping for dinner. Mari only comes up to Yuuri long enough to say, “He’s in the kitchen,” jabbing her thumb in the right direction before getting back to work.

And Yuuri’s both ready and absolutely, woefully unprepared. He can’t do this. He _has_ to do this.

Yuuri walks into the kitchen, pushing aside the door before saying, “I’m home.”

Vitya’s helping out Yuuri’s dad, which isn’t unusual in the evenings, but when he catches sight of Yuuri his face splits into a wide, heart-shaped grin, and he practically sings, “_Yuuri_! Welcome home!”

And that part of Yuuri that felt as if it’s been drifting alongside him this whole time settles back into place, warmth spreading from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair, and he returns Vitya’s grin before he settles against the frame of the door, letting himself stare.

Vitya chuckles, raising his eyebrows. “What is it, Yuuri? Do you like what you see?”

And what kind of question is that? Yuuri loves Vitya when he’s covered in food from cooking, he loves him when he’s sweaty and gross from working, he just loves Vitya. So the answer is simple. “Yes, I do.”

Vitya flushes, a darker shade of pink than Yuuri’s ever seen from him before, his hand stalling where it’s been stirring whatever Vitya’s working on. “Oh.”

Yuuri flushes a little too when his words catch up to him, but he doesn’t take it back. He means it. And Vitya should know it.

Yuuri’s father comes up to them, clicking his tongue. “You two haven’t seen each other all day and it shows. Shoo, go catch up and you can help me clean later and stop burning my food.”

Vitya jumps at that, stirring with a little more vigor than he was before until Yuuri’s dad takes it from him. Reluctantly, Vitya lets him have it, then he takes off his apron and throws it into the bin with the other dirty rags before he walks up to Yuuri.

Yuuri holds out his hand, and Vitya takes it without question, letting Yuuri pull them out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going, Yuuri?” Vitya may be curious, but he doesn’t pause as Yuuri pulls him toward the door.

“I thought we could go for a walk?” Yuuri says, hoping that his nerves aren’t rising to the surface enough that Vitya notices.

But all Vitya does is smile and nod, letting Yuuri take the lead and always following.

As they leave the onsen and walk across the town, Vitya rambles about every mundane detail of his day, even chores that he and Yuuri have done a thousand times before, and that’s how Yuuri _knows_ that Vitya’s picked up on Yuuri’s mood. He squeezes Vitya’s hand, not willing to admit out loud how much he appreciates just hearing Vitya’s voice, not without admitting what it is that’s making him so nervous.

By the time that they reach the beach, the sun is touching the place where the ocean meets the sky, pink and orange hues painting across the wispy clouds. Vitya quiets a little as they make their way across the sand, both of them appreciating the view.

They’ve been here dozens of times before, talking and walking and just being near each other, so Vitya can’t suspect anything unusual—or, well, Yuuri hopes he doesn’t know exactly what Yuuri’s up to. He needs to do it before Vitya can guess.

Yuuri pauses as they walk, Vitya’s rambling coming to an abrupt halt. Yuuri opens his mouth to speak, to start saying words he’s been thinking about for days, but then it hits him like a bunch of bricks to his chest that he has _no idea what he’s doing_. Anything he wanted to do or say is spinning through his head too fast for him to grasp. His breaths come shorter as it all falls farther and farther from out of reach. Everything is spinning too fast, moving too quickly, being too much, and—

Vitya’s hand tugs him over, away from the ocean until they’re both sitting down, sides pressed against each other, fingers still linked.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong?”

Yuuri looks up into those familiar blue eyes, to the concerned pinch of Vitya’s brow, and feels his heart sink a little. This is not how this was supposed to go. Yuuri hasn’t even done _anything_ yet and he’s already screwing it up. “No. Nothing’s wrong. It’s… nothing bad or anything. Everything’s perfect. More than perfect.”

Vitya raises his eyebrows. “You’ve been gone all day and when you come home you hardly have anything to say about it. Then we go for one of our usual walks and you start panicking in the middle of it. That doesn’t seem like everything’s okay.”

“I wasn’t panicking—” But he _was_, and he knows that he was. Yuuri drops his face into his hands, taking a few deep breaths. “Everything’s okay. I just…”

“Just what?”

This _should_ be easy. It’s _Vitya_. They’ve had so many conversations that were harder than this, where their entire relationship was threatening to crumble and break and Yuuri somehow said the right thing. But this time he _can’t_. “I want to… to ask you something and I don’t know how.”

Vitya’s quiet for a moment, and Yuuri can almost see the way that he’s probably tapping his lips with his finger, thinking. “Is it a hard question? Complex?”

Yuuri gives a short, kind of hysterical laugh. “No, not really.”

“Then just say it.”

Yuuri drops his hands, scowling at Vitya who looks at him with a smile, like of _course _it’s that simple. “I can’t just _say_ it. Then it’s not special. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Vitya’s eyebrows raise for a moment before he gets himself under control, instead simply smiling and taking Yuuri’s hands in his own. “Anything you have to say to me is special, Yuuri. Because it’s _you_ saying it, it always means something important. No matter what you have to ask me.”

Yuuri eyes him for a second. “Even when I’m asking you again and again if you’re finally done in the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Even when I’m nagging you about folding the towels the wrong way?”

“Yes.”

“Even when you don’t—”

“_Yuuri_.” Vitya grasps his hands tightly in his own, looking at him with wide, lovely eyes, and a soft smile spread across his face. “You can keep asking these questions, but I’ll only keep saying yes. Why don’t you ask what you _actually_ want to ask me? Please?”

And since when has Yuuri been able to deny Vitya when he looks at him like _that_? Yuuri’s mouth begins moving before his brain catches up with him.

“Will you marry me?”

Vitya’s jaw drops.

Yuuri winces. “Um. I mean. Vitya, you’re _everything_ to me. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you and— oh no, I should be kneeling for this, you’re supposed to _kneel_ for this kind of thing—”

Vitya’s hands are so tight around Yuuri’s that his fingers might be starting to go numb. “I want you sitting right here with me, Yuuri. I want— I need you right here.”

“Oh.” Yuuri blinks, his face burning. This is going _so badly_. “Um. Okay, but…” He manages to wiggle one of his hands free from Vitya’s grasp, getting out a tiny little black box from his pocket. He keeps his eyes on the box as he speaks, like if he’s not looking straight at Vitya he might be any less of a mess. “You’ve said that you’re not sure about if anyone wants to stay with you, even if you know better. And even though I’m unsure about a lot of things—almost everything, really—I’m sure about _one_ thing. I’m absolutely sure about you. And I’ll do anything and everything that I can to stay by your side for the rest of our lives, to convince you that I’m here and that I’ll never, ever leave. I’ll get engaged to you once a week if that will make you happy. I’ll get married to you every day if that makes you sure that I’m here to stay. I know I’ve hurt you a lot, and I know that there are still things for me to make better. But I want to spend every day of the rest of my life making sure that you’re happy and that you’re loved. Because I _love_ you Vitya, and this whole thing might be a total mess, but at least you already know that I’m a total mess?”

Yuuri takes a shaking breath. “So, yeah. All I want to ask you is just… that. Will you marry me?”

Vitya’s silent for long enough that Yuuri starts to worry, enough that he begins fidgeting and spinning the box in his fingers, and he has to glance up and see the damage he’s done.

Vitya’s eyes shine in the light of the sunset, his hair a golden halo around his face. “_Yuuri_. That isn’t a question.”

Yuuri frowns, glancing down at the box, and then back up at Vitya. “Yes it is? There was a question mark at the end and everything?”

Vitya smiles indulgently before taking the box from Yuuri’s hand, gasping as he opens it.

“Um.” Yuuri fidgets. “I was gone all day because I had them engraved? It’s what took so long. There’s half a snowflake in each one, s-so it’s only whole when we’re together—but that doesn’t make my question any less of a question.”

“No, you’re still wrong,” Vitya says as he pulls out the smaller ring, taking hold of Yuuri’s right hand to slide the ring onto it—so carefully yet so quick that Yuuri can barely process it. “It’s not a question when you already know the answer. Yuuri, I can’t imagine my life without you, because you’re the one who showed me what life even _is_ in the first place. Of _course_, Yuuri. There’s no other option, my answer has been and always will be: _yes_.”

Yuuri reaches out and takes the other ring with shaking fingers, lifting Vitya’s hand with his own and slipping the ring on. He doesn’t know _how_ Phichit got Vitya’s ring size but he’s so thankful for it when the ring sits snug and perfect around Vitya’s finger

“That… that’s good.” Yuuri winces again, before he wilts and gives a sigh. “I’m sorry, I meant for that to be a lot more… _more_. You deserve everything, not whatever that was_._”

“It was _perfect_, Yuuri.” Vitya reaches out, slipping his hand beneath Yuuri’s chin and angling his face up so that he can gently press his lips to Yuuri’s. “Though I must say, I wasn’t expecting it so soon after we just talked about it.”

Yuuri laughs a little. He can hardly believe Vitya’s just okay with all this, but… but he can’t doubt him, either. “I just… Everything about your life is up in the air, but I want to know that you belong here, with me, if you want to stay. You have a home. Even after we decide about skating, I want you to know that you always have me. No matter what.”

Vitya smiles at him. “I know, my Yuuri. We may have had… Well, a bit of a bit of a bumpy start, but everything you’ve said since then makes it clear where we stand. I know.”

Yuuri catches Vitya’s smile, staring at him for a moment before he reaches out and pulls Vitya in. Yuuri kisses him more urgently than before, something sparking and catching between them until they’re both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, lungs struggling with not enough air, but only pulling away only just enough to see into each other’s eyes. And Yuuri…. He can’t help but feel light, feel so loved and in love that he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“So… about skating. About the future.” Vitya clears his throat. “I have something to admit.”

“What?” Yuuri’s stomach sinks. Vitya really must have noticed Yuuri practicing and gearing back up into competitive shape, and he’s going to call Yuuri out on planning it without him, even if he’s hardly planned anything yet.

Vitya’s quiet for a long moment, staring into Yuuri’s eyes, familiar blue searching for _something _that Yuuri can only begin to guess at. “Well… at the banquet. At Sochi. I left out a very important detail.”

“Oh _no_.” Yuuri stiffens, barely resisting the urge to pull away. “What did I do? Who did I do it to? How many people do I need to apologize to?”

“No.” Vitya takes his hands tightly in his own again, the metal of his ring a jolt against Yuuri’s skin. “No, please don’t apologize for this. Don’t take it back, not unless you truly don’t want it.”

“But I…” This whole thing is already a disaster without bringing Sochi into it, but… But he _trusts_ Vitya. “Okay. All right. But… please just tell me.”

Vitya nods, his lips twitching up into a fond sort of smile. “I wasn’t happy at Sochi. You know this by now, that I was… struggling. I was looking for anything new, anything inspiring, any way out. And then there was you, making my entire world glow. And you said something that, at first, I thought that you were too drunk to mean seriously, even if a part of me _wished._ But as time passed, and I didn’t hear from you, and I went over what you said again and again…” Vitya takes a deep breath. “And I think I want it.”

“What?” Yuuri feels like he shouldn’t be the baffled one after _he_ just proposed, but here he is. What did drunk him want? To strip off all their clothes and pole dance together? Because Vitya’s halfway there a lot of the time, anyway.

Vitya takes Yuuri’s hands and brings them to his chest where he can feel how Vitya’s heart races. “You asked me to coach you.”

Yuuri cheeks _burn_. He really just went out there and spouted his teenage fantasies all over Vitya, didn’t he? “Oh no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—wait.” Vitya… Vitya said he _wanted_ this? “Wait, wait, wait.”

“If you don’t feel the same now, I understand.” Vitya grips him so desperately, frightened, even as he looks at Yuuri with so much undeniable love in his eyes. “I have no experience, we’re pushing it to the last minute, and you were drunk. But… Celestino was _not_ a good fit for you. He doesn’t understand your potential like I do. He doesn’t understand how you move like I do. And he doesn’t inspire you like I do.”

All Yuuri can do is nod dumbly, knowing on some level that what Vitya says is true, but… This can’t be happening. He just— Yuuri just _proposed_ to Victor Nikiforov, he said _yes_, and now he’s offering to be Yuuri’s coach? And— Victor offered to choreograph new programs for him before, too. That means that he’ll be skating this season coached by Vitya, skating Vitya’s programs, while _engaged to Vitya_.

Yuuri has to be still asleep and in his coma. No, scratch that. This is ridiculous enough that it’s on par with the ludicrous stuff his hormone-fueled teenage brain would come up with. He must have completely dreamt up the last ten years of his life.

Except… except he can feel Vitya’s warmth. He can smell the briny air, and feel the slight breeze cutting through the hot, heavy air. The light of the setting sun that illuminates Vitya is beyond what Yuuri’s imagination could come up with. Vitya himself is more than Yuuri could dream of.

“I… I know it’s a lot to think about when you’re not even sure if you want to skate yet, but _Yuuri._” And there’s that expression, that _intensity_ that Vitya gets when he watches Yuuri practice. “Your skating is so beautiful, so inspiring, that I don’t know what to do with myself. For the first time in years, I _want_ to be around the ice. I want to see you unlock your true potential, and I want to be the one there that helps you do it.”

“You and your skating inspires me to skate like I do, you know.” Yuuri smiles shakily, happy that Vitya’s holding his hands because they’re probably trembling again. “Does this mean that you’re going to retire? Not,” he hurries to continue as Vitya’s face falls, “that it’d sway my decision. I… I might have made up my mind to start skating again for sure these past couple of days? I just want to know.”

“You’ll be upset with me,” Vitya murmurs, looking down.

Yuuri pulls his hands away, only to reach out and link their fingers together. “No. I don’t care what you decide, Vitya, we’ll face it together.”

“That’s just it.” Vitya gives a wry smile. “I… I’m not sure if I want to retire.”

“Oh.” Yuuri lights up. “That’s perfect then!”

Vitya blinks up at Yuuri, and finally it’s _him_ saying, “What?”

“We can stay in Hasetsu to train, you can get the distance and time you need to think, but you never have to actually have to leave the ice if you don’t want to.” Yuuri knows that it would be hard to accept if Vitya wanted to retire in the end, but he’s seen Vitya struggle with _so much_ and all Yuuri wants to do is support him. He wants to keep clutching his hands and pulling him along as they both move forward, at their own pace.

“That sounds _amazing._” Vitya beams. “That means… You accept?”

Yuuri bows a little, which is awkward with how close they’re sitting, but he does his best. “I put my skating career in your hands, Coach Vitya.”

And now it’s Vitya that pulls his hands away from Yuuri, if only to leap forward and tackle Yuuri to the ground, smothering him with praise and kisses as Yuuri laughs and takes Vitya in his arms, holding on tight.

This isn’t the end of them talking about this, they still have a lot to settle. Training schedules and paperwork and contacting the JSF, for starters. There’s going to be a lot standing in their way.

But Yuuri’s beginning to understand that nothing will ever settle for them completely, that life’s a constant string of choices and events catching you off guard and keeping you moving forward.

But together, with Vitya at his side, Yuuri thinks that they can take it on.

He never thought himself as much of a romantic before Vitya, but what can he say? At the end of the day, he believes in himself with Vitya at his side. He believes that their love will always win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only? The epilogue left?? I am dying???
> 
> I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed with Emotion and yet don't have many words in my brain to express them, but thank you so, so, so much to everyone who gave this fic a chance, and then stuck with it through the end--even through the rough patches. (Including both for these poor boys' struggles and me having to delay postings pretty often, because _screw_ 2020)
> 
> On the personal front, things are about the same. Just huddling down and holding it together. Thank you all for being so supportive and patient as I keep having to scrape myself off the ground again and again this year <3 <3 <3
> 
> As always, BLESS [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said) and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear)!!! And all of you guys reading this are just the best, I can't believe this is almost done, I'm losing my mind?!?!
> 
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	42. Epilogue

Vitya’s fingers trail through Yuuri’s hair, sparking electric when he brushes against his scalp. “How would you like it today?” he murmurs into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri hums, leaning farther back into Vitya. It’s been a little while since they’ve both been retired, but their days off from teaching and coaching and doing choreography are still as precious as ever, and Yuuri’s not in any mood to rush anything.

Yuuri’s not exactly sure who got up first, but they’ve spent most of the morning wrapped up in each other in bed, enjoying the warmth and the comfort of actually _being_ together. They’d had to spend some time apart with overlapping competitions last week, and having the projections when they sleep is _nice_, but it doesn’t replace actually being there when everything is stressful and high stakes like all competitions are. But now they’re here, in their own bed, and they can talk about everything and nothing, they can make tentative plans for the day even knowing it all depends on them getting up, which may not happen for a long time.

Luckily the dogs keep them from being too lazy. When the pups have had enough of the cuddling and whispering and kissing, they start walking all over their humans to let them know that they’re _hungry_, and they need to _pee_.

Vitya, saint that he is, had taken them outside this morning. And Yuuri meant to get up and start getting ready for the day, he really did. But he would up drifting in and out until Vitya came back inside, slipping chilly fingers under Yuuri’s shirt until he’s smacked away, eventually getting Yuuri somewhat upright.

And now they sit there while Yuuri refuses to make up his mind about anything.

Vitya huffs a laugh. “You’re being stubborn today.”

Yuuri cracks his eyes open, leaning back and raising an eyebrow at Vitya. “When have I ever _not_ been stubborn?”

Vitya presses his lips together for a moment before his grin breaks through. “Oh, my stubborn Yuuri, whatever shall I do with you?”

“Well, you _were_ doing my hair.” A smile plays across Yuuri’s lips too, he can’t help it.

“So snarky,” Vitya scolds, even as his fingers still move against Yuuri’s scalp.

Yuuri never really did cut his hair back like he wanted to, all those years ago in Detroit. Not that he hasn’t cut it at all, and it’s not as long as Vitya’s hair was when he was younger, but it’s more than he ever had before. He likes it, enjoys being able to tie it back, loves the way it feels when he skates.

And it helps that Vitya loves it, too. He plays with Yuuri’s hair at any given opportunity; Vitya’s even taken to reading magazines to find new styles to try. Sometimes Yuuri thinks Vitya misses his own long hair, but when he asked Vitya about it, he said he doesn’t miss the maintenance. He just leaves all the hard work of it to Yuuri and reaps the benefits.

Yuuri belatedly hums again, knowing he’s being ridiculous, but knowing that Vitya loves teasing him anyway. Their largest dog, a standard poodle, leaps up on the bed and collapses against them, Yuuri’s fingers instantly curling into her soft fur.

“_Yuuri_.” Vitya’s hands stop their ministrations, his arms wrapping around him instead.

Yuuri grins, reaching up with his free hand to tangle his fingers in Vitya’s own hair. “I’m not feeling picky today. Why don’t you do something you’re in the mood for? You know I trust you.”

“I do.” Vitya leans down and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s neck, making a shiver crawl down his spine even as his heart soars.

Vitya says that so _easily_ now, no hesitation in any part of him. It’s taken a lot of time, a lot of talking things out between themselves and people that could help, and a lot of work, but Vitya just seems _happy_ now.

And Yuuri isn’t so bad off himself.

Vitya just stays there a moment, close and warm and _present_, before he nibbles a little on the sensitive skin just below Yuuri’s jaw. Yuuri sucks in a sharp breath as he shifts his neck, making it so that Vitya has more room to explore—

And Yuuri’s phone vibrates with a text message on the nightstand.

Vitya groans against Yuuri, and Yuuri leans a little into the sensation before Vitya pulls back just enough to say, “Don’t look at it.”

“But…” But Yakov will be coming to Hasetsu soon for the renewal of their vows—it’s about time he came to one, there’s only so many times grumbling, “I was there when you did it the first time,” will cut it with either of them, especially when they’ve had the ceremonies in enough nice places that even _Yakov_ could enjoy some of them—and he’d had some trouble booking his flight. Not to mention they were trying to convince Yakov to stay at the onsen, but he was being stubborn about that, too.

And then there’s the whole situation at the rink…

Yuuri’s phone buzzes again.

And again.

And again.

Vitya groans, falling back and away from Yuuri, startling away the poor pup and freeing Yuuri to crawl away and grab his phone.

“My own husband _forsakes_ me for the lure of technology.” Vitya drapes an arm across his face as Yuuri scans the texts. “I will never shine as bright as his backlit screen, I will never again catch his eye.”

“Vitya, your hair is literally _silver_, it’s shinier than any gross, used phone I’ve seen,” Yuuri mutters as he types something back. “Besides, Yurio says your forehead—”

“Don’t you _dare_.” Vitya sits up, glaring at him. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Yurio. I’m banning you from working with him.”

Yuuri glances up at him with his eyebrows raised. They both know that Yurio will never actually listen to Vitya. He respects him, sure, but they end up bickering and jabbing each other the whole time—it’s like they turn each other into children.

“_Fine_.” Vitya collapses again. “Let me guess? It’s Minami texting you. _Again_.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. Yuuri might be stubborn, but Vitya’s nothing if not dramatic. Well, two can play at that game.  ”Why? Are you jealous of our prize pupil, Minami?”

Vitya blinks at Yuuri. “Yuuri, darling, he’s a _child_. What do I have to be jealous of?”

Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with how you glare at my phone every time he texts me. Or how you wrap yourself around me when I’m coaching him. Or that one time you were drunk and you told him—”

Vitya’s nose goes a deep pink before he cuts Yuuri off. “What about that first time after I started coaching you and _you_ got jealous of all of Russia, pulled me in by my tie and then made out with me so thoroughly I could barely walk afterward? I don’t think you’ll win this round of who gets more jealous.”

A small smirk crawls across Yuuri’s lips as he leans a little closer to Vitya. “You never told me that last part. I’d be happy to do that again if it’ll settle your poor, sensitive nerves.”

Vitya sighs, looking at the ceiling as he tries and fails to fight off another smile. “What happened to that shy, innocent boy I used to know? The one who could barely look at me while I traipsed around in my thong?”

“You know what happened. _You_ ruined him for anyone else.” Yuuri moves a little closer, leaning down to kiss Vitya’s cheek. “Besides, that whole banquet story was, um, well. Well, I was far from innocent.”

It’s Vitya’s turn to smirk, now. “You’re right, aren’t you? Well then, I guess I’ll have to just—”

Banging rattles the door to their apartment, so familiar a noise that neither of them jump.

“Old geezers! Open up!”

They both sigh. Yuuri leans down for a kiss before he gets up and goes to answer the door. He swings it open, neatly stepping aside before Yurio’s hammering fist slams into _him_.

“Oh,” Yurio says by way of apology. “There you are, did you hear about—”

“The whole thing at the rink?” Yuuri sighs. “Yeah, Minami just texted us.”

“Oh, don’t you sigh over your own mess.” Yurio rolls his eyes. “You’re the ones who decided to let your beasts procreate.”

Yuuri could point out that Yurio spent at least a half-hour yesterday cuddling with the three little draklings while he thought no one was looking. He could also point out how fond the little, white-furred runt of the litter has been of Yurio, and how Yurio spoils it _rotten_. And how he’s been bringing them treats daily, and staying late to make sure they’re taken care of, and—

Well, Yurio might technically be an adult now, but his temper has never really settled into what most people would call _normal_. There’s no sense in poking a sleeping bear.

“Well, thank you for keeping an eye on them on our days off.”

Yurio huffs crossing his arms. “I promised to, and I will.” He hesitates a moment, looking behind Yuuri before continuing, “Sorry I have to keep bothering you about it.”

Yuuri smiles up at him—it’s still a little strange that Yurio ended up taller than him after that hellish puberty—and only just barely resists the urge to ruffle his hair. “It’s not your fault they partially imprinted on us.”

Yurio huffs, shaking his head. “You two just have too many soulmates.”

“No such thing!” Vitya chirps as he comes up, wrapping an arm around Yuuri. “Darling, you still need to get dressed.”

“Oh.” Yuuri looks down at his ratty t-shirt and sweatpants and has a bit of deja vu of sorts.

It was a long time ago, but this was the same kind of outfit that he was wearing when Vitya appeared to him again after Sochi, back in Detroit. Phichit had scoffed at his clothes that day, and would probably do it again if he were here now. It’s still a little while before Phichit arrives for the renewal, though.

“Yuuri?”

“Um, yeah. I’ll go change.” Yuuri leans up, quickly pecking Vitya on the cheek—thankfully Yurio gave up on gagging at that a long time ago—and he heads back into their room.

Yuuri undresses slowly, letting his mind wander a little. It’s so _different_ from back then. Yuuri’s not the same person as he was—but then again, neither is Vitya. He likes to think they’ve helped make each other a little better.

Yuuri flourished under Vitya as a coach, even if there were a few bumps along the road. Yuuri’s grown so much with all of the support around him, he wound up winning more than he would have ever thought possible before he retired, and you know, he made a few more soulmates along the way as he got more and more comfortable in his own skin.

And Vitya… he blossomed into something else entirely, something more beautiful and more _Vitya_ than Yuuri’s ever seen. He grew to love skating again, grew to love _life_ again, and he found so, so many soulmates along the way, and he still finds new ones all the time.

They share quite a few soulmates, though… Yuuri frowns at the bright, rainbow handprint on his right buttcheek, knowing there’s a matching one on Vitya’s left from how Chris had greeted them at their very first Cup of China as a coach-student team. He’d always wondered if he’d have a soulmate that would mark through touch, but he hadn’t exactly expected… _this_.

Vitya had been thrilled, though. Vitya never stops being startled and gleeful at every single mark and sign he sees, like he still can’t believe it’s actually happening on some level. He probably can’t. Not after around twenty years of what he went through…

Yuuri sighs, pulling on his underwear and his pants. He wishes he could have met Vitya sooner, but… Would either of them have been ready, then? Yuuri was barely ready to be what Vitya needed as it was, and Vitya was stumbling around in turn.

No… Yuuri pulls on his shirt, smiling to himself. Maybe other possibilities exist somewhere out there for them, but this is _theirs_ and Yuuri loves it. He loves their lives, and he adores how they entwine—and how they part too. That each of them are still themselves, still Victor and still Yuuri, yet they work together so well whenever they need each other.

It’s right here and right now that Yuuri’s been able to tear down his own, ridiculous walls to keep the outside world out, and that he’s been able to help Vitya do the same.

It’s hard. It sucks sometimes. But it’s all worth it.

Yuuri feels a little lighter as he leaves the room, the dogs coming up to mill around his feet for a moment before they decide he’s boring and go back to their business.

“Yuuri!” Vitya beams as he pulls on a jacket, Yuuri coming and sliding on his sneakers. “I made sure the dogs are set on water. Are you ready?”

Yuuri can’t help but smile, and if his eyes are a little misty… Can anyone blame him? He reaches out a hand, and Vitya meets him there. “Always, Vitya.”

Vitya smiles, and it’s not like the one that Yuuri first saw in Detroit, not at all. Maybe it was more real than the old posters that Yuuri used to have of Vitya on his wall, but that? That smile wasn’t so full of happiness. His entire face didn’t light up back then. He didn’t have as many lovely laugh lines. He never bloomed under Yuuri’s voice and touch and sight like he does now.

Yuuri wouldn’t change it, though. Maybe if he could go back in time, he would try and do better by Vitya, but that strange, ridiculous, and kind of terrible beginning is what led them both here, to this.

Yuuri remembers thinking that he must have been cursed when Vitya showed up in his and Phichit’s apartment that day, that he was losing his mind.

But, well. There are far worse things than naked men appearing in his life being a recurring theme. There are worse things than soulmates that are your idol, and having to swallow your pride for the ones you love. There are worse things than accepting love into your life and starting again, starting _better_.

Yuuri doesn’t have to worry about any of that in his life. Not here. Not anymore.

Not with his Vitya by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess? That's it?! That's the end ohmygod?!?! I am so not emotionally ready for this. This was a rollercoaster of a fic for so many reasons, and it means more than I can put into words that so many people have read and supported it. There was a point in time last year where I was absolutely going to drop this project. It felt like all this project brought was negativity into the world--and little did I know that the super fluffy ending would come at a time when a _lot_ of us needed it. Thank you to everyone who took the time to give this fic a chance--while posting or sometime in the future!--and especially to everyone who cheered me on along the way. I know the YoI fandom is a lot smaller these days, but those hanging around for these ridiculous dorks are amazing people, and you guys mean the world to me. 
> 
> Okay, okay, I'll stop gushing! If you're interested in my next project, it'll either start posting this Wednesday or the next, and you can check out more info in [ this Twitter thread](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1283482887988416516)(which also has a smol preview) and [this Tumblr post](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/623899099096383488/almost-time-for-my-next-longfic-to-start-posting)! It starts out a bit angsty, but we switch into fluffier territory MUCH FASTER than the beginning of this fic, the people reading ahead have verified this I SWEAR.
> 
> One final shout-out to [Cap’n Walrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said) for being an amazing beta, and [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) for being the BEST CHEERLEADER EVER and making sure that this wild fic got written. And thank you to everyone out there for getting this far <3 <3 <3
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73nTs5i2SBshzhgwQocnx5) | [Reader Rec Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1k4vZHTh3de35ZFEngaDCl) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/kazul9)


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